#they were never there when I was struggling

[elisamaza]

Pizza delivery drivers of Reddit, what are some of the craziest reasons people have ended up on the “no delivery list”?

gameryamen

I worked for a pizza place that was near a very large software company. Deliveries to the neighborhoods or offices where all the tech workers lived was usually pretty awesome because they'd tip rather well. But there was one apartment that started to become a concern for us drivers. The man ordering was always polite, always paid, always tipped $4, and he would have been a perfect customer. He'd order breadsticks and a salad twice a week, and sometimes he'd include a bottle of root beer. Except when he opened his door, you could see an alarming amount of our breadsticks boxes stacked everywhere inside. Not like a few on the counter and a couple by the trash, stacks and stacks of them. Even worse, it was only our boxes in there. He wasn't just ordering from us often, we were the only place he was getting food outside of work. Now, I've worked in some of those tech offices myself, I know that there's enough decent food options just hanging out in the break rooms that this guy was probably not malnourished, but the way his living space was a shrine of greasy cardboard was a clear sign that this guy didn't have a healthy relationship with our food. Our manager was a really cool dude though, and he heard the drivers joking about the boxes and asked a couple of us "Is this like a messy guy or a guy who needs help?" We agreed it was probably the latter. So on his day off, the manager went to the guys apartment with an envelope that had gift cards for several other restaurants that delivered in that area and chatted with him. Manager found out that the guy was an immigrant on a Visa who was struggling to find American food he liked, and too socially awkward to ask anyone. So he talked with him through a few menus and helped him with some recommendations. Then he helped the guy load all the old boxes into his truck to take to the dump, in exchange for a promise not to order from us more than once a week. For a little while, the manager had a note on the calendar showing the last time the guy had ordered, and a couple times he had to hold his ground and refuse the guy's order. But after that chat, I never saw the stacks of boxes again, and the guy would boast about the different meals he'd had.

what the fuck dude, this is so sweet.

[screampied]

HIHI VEGAS!! HOW ARE YA DOING?!

i’ve had this idea for a while and i was wondering if u could write it!!

trying to get off while your husband (geto or nanami) were gone on a mission that took a few days and you started to get frustrated because you couldn’t no matter how much you tried but little did you know he was standing at the door way to your shared room watching try so hard?! and after he confronted you about it he made you get off multiple times and you even squirted for the first time once or twice?!!

nanami catching you playing with yourself — ★.

cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, brief cunnılingus, praise, first time squırt, mdni. an. hii i’m okay!

with brows frustratingly furrowed and a tangled few fingers of yours curled into your sopping cunt, you whine. it’s been a few days since nanami left for a mission and truth be told—you missed him, dearly. more than anything though, you missed his beloved touch. only your husband knew how to make you moan with something as simple as physical touch. he knew you—more importantly, he knew your body. trembly legs of yours sprawl wide open whilst you’re in the midst of trying to locate your concealed g-spot. alas, it’s so cute because regardless of how many attempts you tried, you could never do it like he could. you’re struggling, coating the entirety of your digits with your slit before you slump back in detestation defeat.

a pout goes against your lips as you swear underneath your breath. yet little did you know, nanami was leaning against the door. “aw, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a soft voice, and you jolt immediately once you realize he’s been watching this entire time. you felt a sudden wave of hotness set against your skin like wind, embarrassment overtaking you. dragging his feet against the wooden floor, he tugs on his tie. “havin’ fun?” and once you pout more, he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. you shake your head and he chortles. “ohh, i see. poor baby couldn’t even do it right. but don’t worry, kento’s here—let’s pick up where you left off, yeah?”

his words were so so smooth, just his dialogue alone was enough for you to get off. nanami had a way with words for sure. he could say anything in his deep, tantalizing voice and you’d be creaming in an instant. that’s one of the many things he’s always loved about you though.

“o- okay,” you inhale a single sharp breath, having your wrist already bent to a ninety degree angle. two pathetic fingers of yours pull out and he gazes at the soaking mess of a scene. “i know ‘m supposed ‘ta wait ‘till you get home but i was bored, ‘ken. missed you so bad.”

“baby, ‘s okay,” he reassures with a warm smile, grabbing ahold of your wrist.

his touch, you were still a bit sensitive. as his fingers dance against your skin for a few seconds, you felt that familiar throbbing pool of heat introduce itself. a school of pulsing convulsions rupture out of you so haphazardly that it’s almost splitting you from the inside out. you’re panting out of your full, heavy lungs, and that’s when nanami plants a tender kiss near the beloved crown of your head. “missed you more. ‘n don’t worry that pretty head. ‘sides, you know you can call me right?”

“but— but you’d be working,” you mumble, watching as he slowly spreads your legs further.

nanami gingerly brings a hand between your thighs, a thumb stroking against your puffy swollen clit.

swollen to the very entrance, it’s drooling, dribbling sloppily with your anticipating arousal so much that he feels the inevitable tent arise in his slacks. he’d only been watching for a good five minutes—but he couldn’t stand to see his precious baby struggle. the least he could do was teach you right. as you’re still moaning up a storm, you conclude your sentence with a sweet and shaky, “didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“next time, call me,” and his voice was pitchy.

a fair amount of raspy baritone drags around his words before he inches his head down towards your thighs. softly, he grips your left leg before languidly giving your cunt three passionate kisses. those kisses were tender—entirely sloppy, his chin rubs against your folds and you whine, already feeling your arch.

you whimper out his name in pleasure with a featuring hand immediately digging through his mahogany messy strands.

“doesn’t matter if ‘m on my break or not, i’ll always make time for you. if you play with yourself baby—play with her, i wanna hear it too.”

the most kindest eyes meets your gaze for another time—they then flicker down towards your pussy before he swiftly whistles against it. “wheww, she’s all hot ‘n ready, isn’t she,” and speaking of hot, the air feels substantially thick. so thick that you could cut right through the weightless wind with a knife.

nanami lets off a gruff groan, reaching for his pants before yanking down his dress slacks. “sweetheart, i find it cute though. just the image of you not knowing how to finger yourself properly. thought i showed you how, remember?”

with a heaving gasp, your legs were laid all out for him on display as if your body was a canvas. showing off for him as if you were a mere museum piece.

in which—to be honest, you were.

his special, priceless museum piece.

“i— i tried,” you babble, the feverish air of his warm breath aerating against your folds makes you twitch. despite him being so patient and gentle with you—understanding even, he’s still a bit of a tease. he can’t help it. your sharp breathy pants only intensifies the more each millisecond seconds passes and progresses. all the while you’re trying to match your irregular breathing patterns, a clammy hand of yours combs through his umber, unkempt slick back. “can’t do it like you, kento. my fingers are too weak.”

“aw, ‘s okay. guess you jus’ need more training then,” he guffaws with the most kindhearted, gentle expression. that soon fades once you whine, feeling nanami’s plump, perfect lips surprise your cunt with a needy brief nibble.

the moment his rotating tongue swirls against your entrance its over. it’s so slick and,

already . .

you start to coat his chin with your wetness. it’s shimmery, shining against the window pane that had sun ricocheting against the class. so effortlessly pretty. with your quavering legs being all in the air practically, you grind your hips against his face as you’re laid back.

as countless whimpers mercilessly snatch out from your dry throat, you then start to feel the soft fading stubble of nanami’s against your pussy. briefly, it tickles against your skin before it grabs out a louder bundle of moans. the stimulation of his faint facial hair smearing against your entrance makes you pulse more than you’d initially realize. long, lengthy lashes of his flutter shut and as he’s buried between your thighs—seconds go by before he then gathers out two fingers.

his thickset index and a middle finger, both long and you only ached for them to be inside. you didn’t wanna wait anymore— all you knew was that you needed him.

badly, as if your life depended on it.

nanami’s fingers were so slender lengthy, staggering inches. already, you were losing your train of thought . . imagining his long fingers stirring the insides of your cunt, clamping down against your walls. as youre in your own erotic little phantasm, you try to think of it all. nanami praising you how good you’re doing, how soaked you are—even talking you through it in that warm, alluring voice.

as you’re entrapped in your own thoughts, it makes you suck your teeth in wanting desire. your imagery would only soon turn real within a few sloppy seconds.

“stay with me, silly girl,” he purrs, a teasing smile contorting against his lips. it’s a stretch—merely, with a swatting tiny smack against your cunt, you’re brought right back to reality. you moan, trailing your hooded eyes back down at him and he flashes you a warm, innocent smile. prying his mouth away momentarily, he prods an index finger against your entrance— watching as it slowly makes its way in. slowly, it seeps into your drenched cunt and you whine out a mewl. your sweet noises ring through his ears before he inserts another one. nanami mimics a bowling ball grip with his wrist, a low raspy, “oooh,” slithering out of his throat before he gives your pussy another kiss. a french kiss against your folds—deep, sloppy, and strictly passionate. your glutinous slick glosses against his lips—his chin and below, and it’s nothing but a pleasing sight to see.

lewd, but salaciously pleasing,

“seeee. all you had to do, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a hoarse tone.

hearing the sloshing slopping squelches your own cunt makes, he gets more aroused. you’re not helping the growing boner he’s got. still, nanami’s got the perfect angle, it’s almost too perfect.

two hands of yours drag near your neglected breasts—fondling with them as you bite your lip. once the bit skin gnashes against the keen edges of your teeth, you mom again. jerking further back, your lips slither cutely into an ‘o.’ chuckling, nanami then starts to ease both digits in and out. thrust after thrust—he starts off slow so you can adjust. he’s fingered you before, countless times even. but with him, it always seemed like the first time. it was that good.

its rhythm was enticing,

the crazed stimulation has your so brain fuzzy that you could barely comprehend anything but the soft padded tips of nanami’s thick fingers. “my, you’re quite the soaker today,” he continues to speak, and he lolls his tongue against your folds. your taste was his ultimate favorite—no matter how many times he’d get a quick slurp, he was never satisfied.

well—he was, but nanami kento was a perhaps a bit of a greedy man. he always wanted more of you.

every single time,

raising a brow, he grows curious once you suddenly sit up, pulling him towards you.

landing with an oof, he plops flat on his back. a hand runs through his messy hair as he cranes his neck to get a good look at you. you’re so breathtaking when you try to get what you want.

nanami doesn’t even bother to ask any questions, he always finds it cute whenever you try to have your way with him. keyword, try.

“well, excuse me,” and he spots the cute feral look in your dilated irises. you’re needy, still feeling your cunt twitch between your thighs, you crawl towards his lap to straddle him. “hm. w- what’s this?”

“wanna ride you,” was all your quavering lips could ramble out. nanami’s signature cologne scent was loud. as you make your way closer towards him, it was the only thing you could make out. his musk, his known, manly musk that never failed to give you obscene whiplash. nanami glances at the adorably ethereal sparkle in your eyes and his big hands glue onto your hips. sliding your laced panties to the crevices of your thighs, you spring out his weighty cock. “need you, ‘ken.”

“s… so impatient today, huh,” nanami softly smiles, allowing you to feel all over his body. despite him wearing mission clothes still, your hands felt his bulging muscles poke out through the piles of fabric.

once his hardened dick’s out, you moan—leaning into his neck, a hand of yours giving it a few solid pumps. nanami hisses, pulling you closer to him before you arise your jittery hips. “but- but my love,” he swallows, peppering a few kisses near the crook of your neck. “are ya sure you can handle it? you barely—”

“i can take it, ‘ken.”

famous last words—

you said you could take him, but it was the mere opposite. perhaps you’d let your horniness overtake you, because as you’re trying to barrel his fat tip inside, your legs tremor. it’s like the calm before the storm—your legs vibrate and twitch, preparing to erupt and quiver like a predicted earthquake. as you’re tightly holding onto his pent up shoulders, you whine, the peeling head of his plump cock smears itself against your soddened opening.

you’re trying to squeeze him in but he’s just so fucking so big.

your mouth then starts to open wider, voluntarily growing agape and sweet harmonic babbles of moans only escape through. it’s like you’re singing almost, except but in a much more lewd way.

it feels warm—a scorching hot type of warm.

regardless, it feels good even with you trying to take his size. you don’t get far, the head of his dick was so wide that again, you’re in awing rhapsody. you’re trying to have your cunt envelop his heat— feel him bottom out inside of you yet abruptly out of nowhere, you start to gush out.

it happens randomly. you’re not prepared, he didn’t even make his way inside. barely just the tip and here you were squirting all down his length. the sudden orgasm that drags out your throat was so long, it was pretty and bounced off the thin walls of the bedroom. a shrilling moan rudely ripples out from your esophagus as you make a cute attempt at thrusting forward. even still, you were determined to ride him—but still, it was no use. nanami grows a bit flustered at how you collapse into his chest, rubbing your head against him. he pats your head, a soft smile returning to his lips. “s- shiiit,” you croak out, sucking against the tender skin of his collar bone. nanami’s holding you firm and steady, a hand soothingly caressing down your back. the simple gesture alone calms you down, albeit you’re still shaking on his lap. your hips rapidly stutter over him, and you’re still feeling various piles of rapturing nirvana send you into a complete, euphoric trance. “k- ken, fuuuck.”

“i know princess,” he kisses against your earlobe, your narrow slitting entrance just dying to be stuffed.

you’ve never been more soaked—out of all the times, you’ve never made this much of a mess. you never squirted before, and it was a mesmerizing feeling. your legs felt like mush, still shaking and your cunt’s still trying to get over itself— throbbing and pulsing to it’s beating content. concise minuscule tears of sweat race down the sides of nanami’s thinly arched brows. a hand of his then grabs a fair chunk of your ass, making you rock against him before he lowly whispers to soothe your zealous state. your fervent was through the roof— it was a feeling you couldn’t describe let alone put into words. all you knew was that you wanted to do that again. as you’re still twitching a bit, nanami chuckles, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” and a smile creeps onto his face the moment you bury your face into his neck.

oh, you’re embarrassed. you thought you could ride him but instead you barely even lasted a few seconds. nanami was quite compassionate though—he holds you close in his arms, pressing another kiss against your collarbone. “don’t be shy. i never minded a little mess anyway.”

at his lewd, filthy words—you’re whining. you wanted him so bad and you wanted more. you bring your desperate lips towards his face to kiss him and happily, he returns the favor. a tongue of his collides with yours before a hand of his gently wraps around your throat. with moving muscles tangoing together, swaying in harmony—his hands continue to wander every inch of your body. nanami likes to take in your curves, the very curvature of your pretty physique—each spot his fingers locates and reaches, it sends you continuous new shivers every time. pulling away after a while to breathe, nanami then makes you lie on your back again. as he’s hovering over you, he leans down to kiss near your tummy. “don’t worry, wifey,” he shushes in a loving tone—his eyes filling up with even more adoring tenderness for you. you were just so pretty like this, exposed and underneath him. your body was like art to him. “i got you,” he coos, and as he raises your leg slowly, creating a damp trail of kisses from your knee to your ankle, he aligns his cock against your drooling slit. “kento’s got you,” he repeats in a sweet purr. “now let your husband take it from here. lie back— yeah, atta girl.”

#★vegasbaby. #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles

[sweetnans]

Katsuki always paid attention to little details even when you were only a number in his mind. You ended number seven on the charts after the tests for UA application. He memorized the first ten and then recognized each one of you on the first day of class.

Your ID photo that appeared beside your score wasn't nothing alike like you were in person.

He completely flipped.

He pushed the feeling aside because he had no time to waste on stupid things, and he succeeded for a long, long time. Bakugo ignored you, pretended that you didn't exist and the fact that you were part of Midoriya's group the first months made it easy for him to keep you far away but that also made it hard to watch.

Why were you laughing at what shitty Deku had said? That fucker wasn't that funny.

Why was your hand on Deku's hair ruffling and combing it with your fingers?

He was fuming on the inside.

When Mina started to hang out with you, he was relieved that he won't have to see you with Deku again.

But then, you started to hang out with his group, and everyone loved you instantly. Kirishima always wanted to sparr with you, Kaminari always asked for your help on math and Sero, fucking Sero always inviting you to dance with him.

After he saw the behavior of his friends when it came to you, he almost preferred you hanging out with Deku.

He noticed that you smiled brightly every time Kirishima told you one of his dumbs jokes while having you pinned down on the floor mat after a sparr, but you never laughed.

He noticed your leg trembling under the table when you studied with Kaminari in the common room. He could bet that the bastard used every chance he got to flirt with you in the most hideous way.

He also noticed your pink tinted cheeks every time Sero gave you his hand for a quick dance around the kitchen.

Almost like you were uncomfortable with their demeanor.

You were pretty. He understood that they were making their moves to you, but you were just too shy and good to say anything to them, like you weren't interested at all for example.

One night, he couldn't sleep and went straight to the kitchen of the dorms to grab a glass of water. He never expected seeing you there scrolling in your phone leaning by the sink, waiting for the toaster to pop your bread out.

"You shouldn't be eating carbohydrates this late"

He startled you. He literally appeared from the shadows of the dining room dragging his feet, making no sound at all.

"Jeez, you should wear a bell or something," you giggled when he gave you a puzzled look. "Like a cat? So next time I know that you're coming?"

"I know what you meant." he walked to you and grabbed a glass from the rack.

He felt your presence in his bones like a static pulse vibrating under his skin. Maybe it was just your quirk trying to reach for him.

"What are you doing here this late?" You asked clearing your throat while he gulped his water in one go.

"What does it seem like I'm doing?" He pourred another glass. He wasn't that thirsty. He just wanted to be there in silence with you for minutes, without his obnoxious friends.

Your toast popped out of the toaster, and you grabbed it, burning your fingers in the process.

"Shit, shit," you exclaimed, blowing some air at your fingers to ease the pain.

"C'mere shithead," he grabbed your hand and put it under the sink, letting the cold water flow.

"It's fucking freezing" you tried to pull your hand back but his grip tightened.

"What did you expect? You just burned your fucking fingers doing the dumbest shit I've ever seen"

You didn't know if it was the serious tone on his voice or the way that he was struggling with you stopping you from taking your hand out of the water, but something about the scene made you let out a laugh, a big one. He had never seen you laugh like that before.

"Are you laughing at me?"

That question only made it worse. You were absolutely parting yourself from laughter. He turned off the water and watched you wipe your tears.

"I'm sorry, you're not that funny," you said, returning to your normal state. He grinned.

You passed by his side fetching your toast and poured some jam.

"Do you want some jammie toast with that water of yours?" You asked, offering a half eaten toast.

"Sure." he took the toast, and in return, he gave you his half glass of water.

After that encounter, he noticed that every time his friends were around you, you always tried to find him, looking for exchange glances, giving him a subtle smile.

He started to show up at your study sessions with Kaminari, and he noticed that your legs stopped trembling because his presence was enough for Kaminari to keep his mouth shut.

He also began sparring with you on training sessions switching partner with Kirishima leaving him with Sato.

And everytime Sero tried to dance with you in front of everybody he grabbed your arm and guided you to the kitchen or his room with a lame excuse to get you out of the situation.

Fortunately, his friend read the room pretty well. The three of them enjoyed more watching him play his cards with you than putting themselves on a constant shame.

#bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bakugo headcanons #bnha bakugou #my hero academia #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #my hero academy fanfiction #mha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bnha drabble #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #bnha #mha drabbles #mha fluff #mha bakugou #mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader

[pinkflower2003]

Heyy not sure if you’re comfortable writing smut but I have a spicy request where Christian calls max while him and the reader are in the middle of having sex and he picks up loll…..

Max Verstappen x Reader NSFW (18+)

a/n: thank you for your request! i’ve done this as a bit of a blub because i never know how to write long smut! hope this is okay!!

Request here🍓

The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow that danced across the walls. The evening had started innocently enough—dinner, a few glasses of wine, and the kind of conversation that made you feel closer than ever. Now, you were tangled in the sheets with Max Verstappen, your bodies pressed together in a passionate embrace. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourselves in each other.

Max’s hands roamed your body, exploring every inch with a hunger that made your heart race. His lips traced a path down your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You were laying on your front, your ass up in the air as he fucked you from behind.

Just as the intensity between you reached its peak, Max’s phone rang, the sound startling you both. Max hesitated for a moment, his breath hot against your skin, before groaning in frustration.

“For fucks sake, can't even fuck my girlfriend in peace.” he muttered, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

You watched as he reached for the phone, his other hand still caressing your thigh. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was his manager calling. Max sighed, knowing he couldn’t ignore the call, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“It’s Christian,” he said, looking at you apologetically.

You huffed, as he just pushed your head down, back into the pillows, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other holding both your arms behind your back as he continued to slam into you. With a smirk, he answered the call, his voice slightly breathless.

“Hi Christian, what's up?” Max said, trying to keep his tone professional. “Uh, no i’m not busy.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

As his manager started talking, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You pressed your ass back into his as he slowed now, not taking as much effort into fucking you, too englufed in the phone call. You pushed back, fucking yourself on his cock, whimpering and moaning, quiet enough for Christian not to hear, but loud enough for Max to know exactly what you were trying to do. Max’s breath hitched, and he shot you a warning look, but you just grinned mischievously.

Max struggled to focus on the conversation, his voice wavering slightly. “Uh-huh, yeah, I got it,” he said, trying to maintain his composure, but that became difficult when you clenched around him, putting a hand down to your clit, playing with it.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum Maxie, please." You whispered as Max grabbed your hair, pulling you up against his chest, still facing away from him. Grabbing your chin, he put two fingers in your mouth as a desperate plea to shut you up. You suck on his fingers, dazed after being fucked.

“Okay, I’ll take care of it,” Max managed to say, his voice strained.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, still sat on his cock, still trying to get him to move.

“I’ll call you back later,” Max said quickly, ending the call before his manager could respond. He tossed the phone aside, his attention fully back on you.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he growled, his voice low and filled with desire.

“Oh, really?” you practically slurred, a playful glint in your eyes.

Max didn’t waste any time. He flipped you over onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. The intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He was determined to show you exactly who was in control.

“You think you can tease me and get away with it baby?” he whispered against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I'm sorry Maxie, just love your cock." You cried out as he thrust into you with speed. "You're such a brat," he murmured.

"If Christian heard anything, you're gonna be so fucking in for it." He said, giving you a harsh smack on the ass.

You smirked, "Worth it."

#formula 1 #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #f1 smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut

[reidmotif]

Check Your Window (He's At Your Window)

Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion. 

Mine happened to be a badly placed window. 

Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold. 

Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers,  and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be. 

And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him. 

I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep,  so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last. 

What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence. 

He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon. 

While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means.  I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was. 

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas. 

I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact. 

Him. The man in the window. 

“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod. 

“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other. 

“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice. 

“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately. 

There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit. 

I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin.  “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient. 

“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds. 

There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion. 

The man in the window was hot.

He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names. 

“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment. 

“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands. 

I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.

It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex. 

I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me. 

And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right? 

So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor.  I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do.  I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win. 

And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties. 

It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this,  literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach. 

Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.

 It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow. 

It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right? 

Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.

It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.

What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks,  the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit. 

My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own,  mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer. 

That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation. 

I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.  

Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for? 

I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered. 

After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come. 

Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do? 

I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.

As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything. 

Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes. 

Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed. 

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep. 

I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave. 

“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me. 

Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to. 

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed? 

“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost. 

I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that? 

There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever.  If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly. 

I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it. 

“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.” 

A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief. 

He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs. 

“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body. 

“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.” 

His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him? 

 It was so fucking hot. 

“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?” 

I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth. 

“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.” 

I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there. 

“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.” 

Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me. 

“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation. 

“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.” 

There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer. 

I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem. 

I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me. 

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock.  “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.

It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm. 

“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder. 

“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?” 

I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?” 

“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.

“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?” 

“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.” 

I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit.  “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.” 

“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.” 

A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.

 “Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip. 

A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday. 

All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted. 

woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3

also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #doctor spencer reid #Spotify

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader?(no age gap). He saw that someone was flirting with her and she was oblivious to it. Then, he swoops in to ‘save’ her from a bad flirt when in reality they were just jealous. He also feels insecure about his age and to make him feel better, she reveals that she had a surprise for him. You decide what it was. Just something fluff and romantic. Tag me later!! Thanks :)))

You make me feel so …. I don’t know the word in English! -McLaren Fernando Alonso x ObliviousWife! Reader

Plot: Marrying Fernando Alonso was the best decision you ever made, you loved how manly and protective he was with you. However, recently he’s been getting jealous of the other men of the grid and how they treat you.

Credit to blueballsracing for the GIF

Fernando Alonso had been your husband for many years. You were sort of childhood sweethearts who married young on a whim and stuck together through it all.

You were able to travel the world with the person, later to be people you loved most. However recently you had a glow about it, maybe it was the fact that you were 1 month pregnant not to the knowledge of Fernando and not yet showing but just had that dewy, glowing skin that made you look radiant.

Everyone in the paddock took notice of this change, not that they couldn’t appreciate your attractiveness before, but now it just made them swoon anytime you breezed into the garage in one of your pretty sun dresses.

Today was no different, it was a beautiful sunny day in Mexico, and you were handing out water and fruit for the mechanics and engineers hard at work on your husbands car. You knew them all by name, you made sure you did, so greeting them was never an issue.

However, nobody told you of the rookie employee that had joined them for Mexico in McLaren garage. You immediately started to introduce yourself to the man, talking to him about what he was doing to the car and asking when he had joined them.

Unknown to you, the mechanic was smitten with you and everything you were telling him about your life. He was listening to every word you were telling him, and that was the effect you had on a lot of people.

“So are you, I dunno coming to the team dinner tonight?” He asks scratching the back of his neck and your about to answer with an animated yes until you feel a hand snake round your waist and pull you closer to them.

You look up and see your husband making you smile and pull him into a gentle kiss.

“Mmm my wife will be attending the dinner” Fernando says, you can’t tell but it’s said with a grit in his teeth and a sharp foxy look in his eyes that tells him to back off.

Fernando was used to you getting male attention, but lately it was constant and you didn’t even know it was happening, you were just so oblivious and he hated that you didn’t realise all these people were flirting with you.

And that mechanic wasn’t even the last of it.

Maybe it was something in the Mexican air, but even Fernando couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you over the weekend, especially after your run in with Lewis, and your old friend Jenson.

When Lewis come up to you, you had a big grin on your face.

“Hey darling. How are you?” He asked kissing either side of your cheeks looking over you with those eyes that would draw any woman in, but you. You had no idea those flirty eyes were intended that way. You just saw the kind chocolate brown and assumed the sparkle and glint in there was happiness to see you.

“I’m really good Lew! Just getting to that point of the day where I’m so exhausted, not all of us are young athletes that look 10 year more youthful than they are” you joked to him making him laugh.

“Mmm you definitely don’t struggle in that department” he says looking over you and you beam at him.

“It’s just so warm, do you recon you can help me take my jacket off? I’m not sure where Fernando is, and the buttons always get caught in my hair” you ask, looking round quickly to see if you can in fact bother your husband with the minor inconvenience at hand.

“Of course, turn around for me” he instructs before pulling your hair back and carefully peeling the tight jacket from your body, now showing off the full look of the sundress you were wearing and how it clung to your most valuable assets in the best ways.

“New dress” Lewis asks observing it making you nod.

“Mmmm, I love getting to wear these kinds of dresses in this heat, they make me feel very pretty” you smile as you shove your hands into the pockets of your dress that when you first got it you couldn’t stop telling Fernando about them, before doing a little spin for Lewis, showing of the small slit in the dress.

Fernando came over the minute he saw the look on Lewis face, who was holding your jacket as he spoke to you.

“Lewis” Fernando faked a smile at the fellow driver, once again wrapping his arms around you so you were in front of him with a tight grip and nowhere to go.

“Hello Fernando” Lewis smiles coyly with a slight smirk. The two make idle conversation before Fernandos dragging you away trying to lightly ask you to stay out in the garage and don’t stray away.

But once he was in the car, you found yourself needing the toilet (Curse the start of your baby sitting on your bladder) and another drink due to the high temperatures Mexico was experiencing that day.

There you found Jenson who was just finishing up with an interview before his eyes landed on you.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N Alonso, looking as beautiful as ever” he grins and you pull him into a hug.

You’d known Jenson for pretty much your whole life being childhood friends from Primary school in the UK. You met Fernando when you went to university in Spain, you always joked that you would have still met someone even if it was later in life because Jenson would have likely introduced you.

So when Fernando saw you and him jokingly messing around with one another his face was like thunder.

Jenson could immediately tell and said a quick goodbye to you not wanting to be at the brunt of the Spaniards anger.

“Fernando baby, what’s the matter?” You ask, coming close to him and trying to thread your fingers through his but he shoves your hand away lightly.

“When will you see it?” He demands and you cock your head to the side, not understanding what he meant, making him groan at how cute you looked.

“See what mi amor?” You ask, using Spanish to see if he’d be calmer.

“You don’t see all these BOYS flirting with you and trying to win you over and you don’t see how it affects me and upsets me! And you make me so mad when you entertain it’s and and I don’t know the world in English because I don’t even think there is a word to describe it!” He exclaims all at once making you step back.

He was really really hurt by all this… and you hadn’t been able to see it.

“Have you ever thought that I don’t notice it because I only have eyes for you?” You ask softly, taking his hand happy and satisfied he lets you this time.

“I know I know, I just think… all of these men coming up to you … they are younger than us and it just makes me think they could give you more than I can” he sighs and looks at you with those little puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t you dare say that!” You exclaim almost offended. He had in fact brought your age into it aswell!

“How dare you say that they could give me more than you can, when you damn well know you’ve given me everything!” You say raising your voice.

“Fernando, I love you, and only you! How can you not see that!” You ask.

“I do see it, I just someone feel insecure and I worry that we are too late to experience certain things and its all my fault coz I put it off because of my career!” He explains and your head cocks to the side once again, wondering what he feels like he’s too late to experience.

“What, what do you think we’ve left too late?” You question.

“Kids, travelling the world without my career being there … I dunno I just had a different timeline for us when we first met” he sighs rubbing his temple before pulling you closer to him and resting his head in the crook of you neck as he takes in your sent.

“Baby, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I was going to wait for after the race so we could tell your parents too but I think this will cheer you up a little … and stop you from worrying about me running over with your colleagues” you joke and he sighs with a light smile pulling back to look over you.

“What is it mi amor?” He asks looking over you. You take his hand and place it on your still pretty flat stomach.

“You can cross a kid of your timeline” you say nervously with a small gulp worried for his reaction.

“Are you being serious?” He asks with a huge grin and he feels around you more to see if there is a more obvious sign.

“Yeah, i only found out before the flight out here” you nod smiling at him and he lifts you up, being as careful as possible with you as he pulls you into a hug.

“I love you so so much! I’m sorry I get so jealous of you, but you can’t blame me when I’m married to such a beautiful woman. Thank you for everything” he smiles pulling you into a light kiss.

Fernando couldn’t be more content with his life right now.

Taglist:

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[dcxdpdabbles]

I was thinking about Danny talking about Dan to the Justice League and all it would take would be a little slip of the tongue for Danny's "he's my evil future self" to be heard as "he's my evil future son." Because it's one thing to have futures where You turn evil, but another thing to have futures where your family members, your KIDS, turn evil.

Phantom was new to the Justice League team. He had been inducted only three months ago and could be seen coming and going at odd hours. No one really knew much about him.

Phantom was recommended by Wonder Woman during the last selection. Apparently, she knew him due to a mutual acquaintance, a woman named Pandora, who had asked the princess to meet the boy—teenager? Man? It was hard to know what to call him because his physical appearance was that of a youth when he was immortal. She rarely nominated anyone for membership, but the person was precious to the team when she did.

And the ghost was.

Although he needed some formal training, Phantom had an excellent grasp of his powers and the cleverness to pull off moves with them, which Batman even praised. Many of the members adored Phantom's willingness to take on any role in a team.

He never complained about letting someone else take the lead, followed orders without much trouble, blended well with anyone as a teammate, and, most of all, had compassion for civilians. Phantom was often the hero who lingered after a battle to help clean up and provide relief aid.

Civilians adored him, and his fans were growing in numbers.

Despite all of this, Phantom wasn't really close with anyone. The ghost rarely lingered after his missions or monitor duty. He flew in, kept to himself, and left out once he was done.

Phantom never started or helped the conversation progress if it was not mission-related. He wasn't as bad as Batman, but he made it hard to connect to him. Diana assured everyone it wasn't because Phantom did not like them—he was only shy.

It was hard to put the being who single-handedly held off Superman the last time he was mind-controlled next to the word shy. Yet they've seen it.

They saw him nervously play with his gloves as someone spoke to him, struggled to think of what to say in conversations, and even ducked his head when he got too anxious.

It was like whiplash to see the ghost go from a shy, nervous teenager to the one that stopped and held Superman in a taekwondo hold until Batman could stab the needle to get him free of mind control.

Then, that same powerful fighter drags himself to the crowd and the smocking city, ready to assist in any way.

Despite being exhausted and covered in wounds, Phantom helped the crew in charge of clearing the debris by lifting heavy objects and scanning the building for people needing medical attention.

Phantom had been more than willing to follow emergency services' commands, personally thanking the EMTs and firefighters once the chaos was over. When a little boy asked for a photo, Phantom told him they could take one when everything settled.

No one expected the ghost to keep to his word, finding the boy and his mother later at a hospital for that photo. He has been awfully apologetic that the camera could only catch a blurry outline of him with his glowing green eyes.

The little boy hadn't stopped grinning despite suffering a broken leg.

He was literally the sweetest little hero—Bruce had to remind himself that he was not an actual child and was, in fact, thousands of years old whenever he saw the ghost fidgeting with something while on monitor duty.

That's why, the day Phantom threw himself into one of the lounges couches with a distressed sigh, everyone in the area surrounded him.

"Everything alright, Phantom?" Asked Oliver as the ghost's glow flickered in and out of his usual glow.

The immortal did not remove his hands from his face but nodded. His glow lowered again as if reacting to his lie.

The heroes gave each other loaded looks before Diana stepped forward. "You seemed troubled, dear friend. Are you willing to allow us to lead an ear to your woes?"

"Dan is just giving me trouble," Phantom mumbled, his words muffled by his hands.

Wonder glanced at the others, but when they shrugged in confusion, she sat next to the teenager. Placing one supporting hand on his shoulder, she rubbed it gently and leaned towards him. "Who is Dan?"

"Me."

Barry blinks. "You?"

"Yeah, the evil me of the future."

Phantom becoming evil? That was inconceivable.

"Did something happen to make you think you're going evil?" Barry asks gently, taking the other open seat on Phantom's left. He places a warm hand on Phantom's hunched-over back and is violently reminded of how tiny the boy must have been when he died.

It breaks his heart. He's smaller than Wally.

"The ancient of Time showed me that he destroyed the world. I helped create him, so I had to be the one to stop him. For the good of the world."

Diana sucks in a gasp, making Oliver, Hal, Barry, and Dinah weary at once. She made the hand motion, signaling that she would explain later, making the other heroes nod. "I know you may blame yourself, but that was merely a warning from the gods. You still have time to change the outcome."

Phantom glances up from behind his fingers. "You really think so?"

"Yes, of course."

The ghost offers everyone a small smile before vanishing from sight. There are gasps and a desperate cry for his name, but eventually, they realize the ghost has left.

"What was that about?" Hal asks after a moment.

Wonder Woman stands, striding over to the large windows of the watch tower. Her eyes turn to the brightest star visible with a small, sad smile. "Clockwork is the name of the ancient- one of the gods- that controls time. He rarely has champions, but when he does, he often gives them glances of their future. Many claim it's more of a curse than a blessing, for they often see the worse of what is to become."

Dinah straightens. "You're saying Phantom really will go evil?"

"No." Diana closes her eyes. "Ghosts are formed in three ways. The first is death. Someone or something dies, and they are formed from the souls getting attached to ectoplasm. The second is that they are bestowed a duty and are created to keep that duty alive. It often governs a part of our reality- space, dreams, wishes, and even plants. The last is the least common due to how rare it is for ghosts to have powerful enough cores. It is to be born from a stronger ghost, taking pieces of their core and growing into their own person."

Diana turns back to the confused-looking heroes to deliver her blow. "Phantom said it was himself that turned evil, but referred to himself as "Dan". Ghosts do not change their names, for their names are part of what holds their cores together. This means Dan is not him but came from him. His son will grow to be evil, and Phantom will likely have to put him down per Clockwork's instructions for the good of the world."

Hal bites out a curse. "That's sick. How could the time god ask Phantom to kill his own kid? Even if he is evil, Phantom doesn't deserve to have that duty placed on his shoulders. He's just a kid."

"But he isn't," Barry sighs. "Phantom is older than ancient Egypt. He just looks like a kid."

"It does not matter." Wonder Woman declares. "Clockwork's warnings can be overturned. We just need to help Dan off the road of darkness while he is still young."

They call for a Justice League meeting, one that only includes the original team that founded the league, to discuss a strategy plan. At first, some want to change the meeting to discuss how to put down Dan, wondering if being Phantom's son made him just as powerful before Batman stands up.

Bruce does not like the idea that the boy will end up destroying the world, but he is the most outspoken about Dan's innocence in the present day. His scorching words make a few ashamed of themselves for giving up on saving the boy before even meeting him.

The meeting drags on for hours until they eventually agree that they will monitor the child. If they realize he is too far gone to save, they will be the ones to end him. Phantom did not deserve to be the killer.

Clark asked Phantom to bring Dan around and introduce him. They dress the indentation as a league-wide party for the member's family (those in the know). The ghost looked spooked before he agreed to bring his child to meet the team.

A week later, every hero smiles politely at the six-foot-tall man with flaming hair who introduces himself as Dan. He's as bulky as Bane, and his low, dark voice echoes through the room. It's comedic compared to the cracking voice of his father, who has to flout to make them the same height.

As soon as the pair of ghosts fly away to speak to Supergirl and Robin, Barry grabs Bruce's cape. "That's a full-grown man."

"I know"

"Bats, that man is built like a brick house. "

"Yes"

"I thought Phantom said he was three? How in the Speed force is that man three?"

"It seems ghosts age differently. Or they are formed to take on the age they desire. I need to do research."

While the surrounding founding members whisper to each other, more heroes arrive at the makeshift party, some in their costumes and some in their civilian identities.

There are various reactions to Dan. A few consider him Phantom's father or brother, but both ghosts quickly make faces. Phantom reminds someone no less than five times that Dan is his future self.

Wonder Woman has to follow the pair whispering to confuse members about the cultural differences between ghosts and children. She doesn't have to explain that to the magic users or those who have worked with ghosts before.

There were a few who had vastly different reactions.

The members of Young Justice, including Secret, all backed up the claims that ghosts did not change their names and were treating Dan as a Phantom's son without blinking an eye.

John Constantine looked at Dan and cooed. "Aw, a baby core. How old is he?"

Phantom cracks a smile while Dan scoffs. "Three"

"Adorable." He raised his flask in salute, "He's powerful. You must be so proud."

Phantom's smile becomes strained. "Thank you."

Across the room, the founding members swear they will save Dan no matter what, as the larger ghost rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #misunderstandings #The cinnamon roll's son #Danny is the office (Justice Leauge) sweet heart #They think Dan is destined to destroy the world #So they will baby this full grown man to teach him right from wrong #Dan's core is only three years in that time 's earth #So he does register as a BABY GHOST #Part 1

[helen-with-an-a]

Numb

Hi, so this came from a request that I got a little while ago. I'm sorry it took so long to get out. But I hope you enjoy.

Barça Femeni x Reader

Description: R has a bad game and is not doing so well after it.

TW: Mental health struggles

Word Count: 2.4k

It wasn’t like you had played poorly, not at all. It was just … not your best day. Everyone had them. For whatever reason, you felt like you weren’t moving as fast as normal – no matter how hard you pumped your arms and stretched your legs, you were always that split second slower than the opponent. Your shots weren’t hitting the back of the net, either. Wide, too high, straight to the goalkeeper, blocked, wide, not enough power, blocked, wide, wide, too high. It was the greatest number of shots you think you’d even taken in a singular game, yet your name was not on the score sheet. You were playing shit. Or at least that’s what you thought … and the fans. You didn’t need to see the actual words to know what the tweets were saying. The comments on the Instagram posts and the anonymous messages flooded in, adding to the overwhelming feeling. Not only was this your team's first home loss in 5 years, but you had missed 3 absolute sitters. One was in the first half; you had managed to defend their corner well and start a counterattack. It was a one-on-one with the keeper. All you had to do was chip it over Hampton, and you’d be in. Except, it wasn’t in. It had hit the post and rolled out of play for a goal kick.

So, you did what you always did when the world was too much. You pushed everything down and into a small little box in your mind. If you left it there long enough, you’d forget about it. Was it the healthiest? No, it most definitely was not. But it worked, and it was never a problem. You had no idea why you acted this way. You had a healthy family that tried to communicate with each other as best they could. You always had good coaches that expertly toed the line between firm and friendly. Your teammates were always kind and helpful. Yet you pushed your feelings down. It was just easier that way. It wasn’t the best in the long run, but right then and there, it was so, so much easier.

“Anímate, cariño,” Mapí said, resting her hand on your shoulder. She knew how hard you would take this. How personally you would take this loss.

“I’m fine,” you said, sounding somewhat upbeat, surprising both you and Mapí.

“Estas segura? Está bien si no lo eres.” Mapí tried to reassure you, not liking your habit of repressing your emotions.

“I’m fine, Mapí.” You dismissed again, a little more defensively this time. You weren’t fine, but you had to be. You smiled weakly, shrugging off her hand and walking towards the tunnel.

You continued to be not-quite-fine for the next few days. To anyone that didn’t know you, you genuinely looked fine. You went about your days like usual. Recovery was generally quiet, with no one feeling up to making small talk and the usual chatter that engulfed the room. Your voice remained deceptively cheery, your soft smile a permanent presence on your face. You went about your day off totally normally – you went to the shops to refill your fridge, stopping on the way to pick up a coffee and a sweet treat like you usually did. Your trolley was full of your usual fruit and veg, and you stopped off to check the eggs and spend time deliberating on the best fresh bread. Everything was totally, completely normal. But to those who knew you, they could see your constant rubbing at your temples, the faint lines of fatigue etched around your eyes despite your insistence that everything was totally fine. You moved like someone carrying an invisible weight, constantly adjusting your shoulders, rolling your neck, and shifting your feet. The shop was too loud for you, each sound and flash of light jolting through your body. As you walked through the aisles, your eyes occasionally darted around as if expecting something to jump out at you. The barista at the coffee shop noticed your slightly strained expression, offering you an extra smile, but you barely registered it. At the checkout, your hands trembled slightly while you packed your groceries, a subtle sign of your inner turmoil. You took a moment to pause, the deep breath you took forcing your emotions back into the little box you had made for them. Despite the routine, every task felt monumental, a herculean effort to maintain the facade of normalcy. Once you were finally home, you exhaled a long, shaky breath, the silence of your apartment both a relief and a reminder of the failure you faced alone.

Everyone knew you weren’t okay by the time the Levente Las Planas game rolled around. You had been quietly hopeful that your name would be in the Starting XI, the one thing you were clinging to. During training, the anticipation had given you a fragile sense of purpose, a sliver of light in an otherwise dark period. Yet, despite your best efforts to appear composed, your teammates noticed the subtle cracks in your façade. You moved through training with mechanical precision, your usual enthusiasm noticeably dampened. The energy you typically brought to the locker room was replaced by a subdued presence; your interactions were reduced to single-word responses and half-hearted nods. Everyone was down, that was sure, but you were on another level.

“Cariño, ¿estás bien?” Alexia asked, her voice tinged with concern. She had been calling your name for the last few minutes, watching from the side as you stared off into the distance, lost in your thoughts. Her brow furrowed as she approached you, her eyes searching your face for any signs of what was wrong.

“Hm? Oh, sí. Yeah, I’m fine,” you dismissed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You quickly averted your gaze, hoping to hide the turmoil brewing just beneath the surface. Alexia wasn’t convinced. She took a step closer, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You’ve been out of it all day,” she said softly, her touch warm and grounding. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me.” Her words were kind, but you felt their weight pressing down on you, making it harder to keep up the charade.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s nothing, really. Just a bit tired, I guess. Pack schedule and whatnot” The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open up, not now, not when you were barely holding it together.

Alexia sighed, sensing your reluctance. “Okay, but if you need to talk, I’m here for you, siempre.” She squeezed your shoulder reassuringly before stepping back, giving you space but not leaving your side entirely. She hoped her presence was a quiet reminder that you didn’t have to face your struggles alone, even if you weren’t ready to share them just yet.

As she walked away, you felt a pang of guilt. You wanted to reach out, to let her in, but the walls you had built around your emotions felt insurmountable. With a heavy heart, you turned your attention back to the field, trying to focus on the rest of training but finding it impossible to shake the weight of Alexia’s concern. You really didn’t like causing people concern.

During the final minutes of the pre-match meeting, your eyes never left Jona, searching for any hint of his thinking, while your hands trembled ever so slightly as you picked at the end of your shorts. The minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly, each second adding to the weight pressing down on your shoulders. The team exchanged worried glances, their concern growing as they watched you struggle to maintain your usual demeanour. The coaches were starting to grow concerned, too. You insisted you were fine.

Finally, the moment came when the coach started reading out the names for the Starting XI. Your heart pounded in your chest, hope and dread warring within you. When your name wasn’t called, the last of your resilience crumbled. You managed to keep a stoic expression, but inside, you felt a devastating blow. Jona hadn’t really explained his thoughts behind it; he never did. How were you supposed to know he was resting you for the second leg? How were you supposed to know that he was deeply concerned for you and didn’t want to add physical tiredness to your anguish?

Alexia, Lucy, and Ingrid could see you visibly deflate when the team sheet was called. They saw your shoulders drop and your head dip slightly. The trio exchanged worried glances, silently communicating their shared concern for you. Alexia bit her lip, wanting to comfort you but unsure how to breach the distance you had placed between yourself and the rest of the team. Lucy clenched her fists in frustration, wishing she could do something to lift your spirits. Ingrid watched you with a heavy heart, recognising the signs of someone struggling to keep it all together and knowing all too well how isolating that could feel.

“Hey, kid,” Lucy said as she sat beside you. You looked up at her, blinking in surprise, when you realised only the four of you left. The media room, which had been bustling with activity just moments ago, now felt eerily quiet and intimate.

“Hi,” you replied, forcing your voice to be the cheerier tone it normally was. You winced slightly at the apparent fakeness, the effort of pretending weighing heavily on you.

“Look, there’s no easy way to say this,” she started, ignoring Alexia's glare. Lucy's tone was firm but kind, her eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of concern and determination. “We’re worried about you,” she confessed, the sincerity in her voice cutting through the silence.

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I’m fine, really,” you insisted weakly, but the words felt hollow even to your own ears.

Alexia stepped forward, her expression softening as she knelt beside you. “We can see that something’s not right,” she said gently, her eyes searching yours for any sign of the truth, a hand resting on your thigh. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’re here for you.”

Ingrid nodded in agreement, her usually stoic face filled with empathy. “We care about you,” she added, her voice low and steady. “Whatever it is, you can trust us.”

Their collective concern felt overwhelming, and for a moment, you felt the walls you had built around your emotions begin to crack. The weight of their support was both a comfort and a challenge, urging you to let them in even as you struggled to maintain your composure. The room felt heavy with unspoken words, and you realised that perhaps it was time to stop pretending and start facing whatever it was that had been eating away at you.

“I’m fine,” you tried one more time, weakly attempting to protest their concerns. “I’m just tired. Honestly, with the packed schedule recently, it’s been a lot. And I haven’t been sleeping fantastically either.” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the truth behind your words.

Lucy frowned, not convinced. “We know the schedule’s been tough on everyone, but this feels different,” she said, her tone softening as she reached out and placed a hand on your arm. “You’ve been off since the Chelsea game.”

Alexia nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with worry. “We’re all tired, but you seem... reservado,” she added gently. “You’ve been pulling away from us, and that’s what worries us the most.”

Ingrid, usually the most reserved of the group, spoke up, her voice firm but compassionate. “We’re a team, and that means we look out for each other,” she said, her gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s okay to admit if you’re struggling. We want to help.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, the weight of their concern pressing down on you. For a moment, you considered brushing them off again, but the sincerity in their eyes made it impossible to dismiss their words. You shook your head, rapidly blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill over. Lucy moved to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Please… please, don’t,” you croaked, hating how your voice wavered slightly. Lucy froze, her hand hovering mid-air, uncertainty flickering across her face.

“Por qué no?” Alexia asked so softly, her voice a gentle whisper that broke through your defences.

You took a shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want to fall apart,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

Alexia's eyes softened further, and she shuffled closer, her presence warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to hold everything in,” she said gently. “We’re here for you, to help you through this. Está bien dejarlo ir.”

Ingrid, who had been quietly observing, spoke up with a rare tenderness in her voice. “We’ve all been there, feeling like the weight of the world is on our shoulders. You’re not alone, and you don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

Lucy, still hesitant, slowly lowered her hand, her expression full of compassion. “We care about you,” she said softly. “More than just as a teammate, but as a friend. Let us be there for you.”

The tears you had been holding back finally began to spill over, and you wiped at them furiously, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. “I don’t know how to start,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Alexia reached out, this time her hand landing gently on your back. “Just by being honest, like you are now,” she said. “One step at a time. We’ll be with you through all of it.”

The warmth and solidarity from your friends began to open the boxes you had created in your mind. The motions slowly seeping out. The burden you had been carrying alone started to feel a little lighter, knowing you didn’t have to bear it by yourself anymore.

I hope you liked it <3<3<3<3

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso #barca femeni #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso imagine #fc barcelona #woso oneshot #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #barca women #fc barça #fc barca #barça femeni #barcelona women #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni

[meanbossart]

What are your thoughts/takes on Astarion's relationship with sex? How does that reflect on his relationship with Drow?

(Obvious disclaimer: this is just my opinion, and my goal is always to entertain myself - never to argue or be the most correct about canon interpretations or themes.)

Hm. So, something that I find very unique (and frankly, overlooked!) about Astarion's previews experiences, is that when speaking specifically about his M.O for luring marks for Cazador the majority of the encounters he seems to have had were not, primarily, "negative".

They weren't positive either, of course. There is no way around it: having sex against your will is rape. But in his case, the perpetrator was never inside the room. From the way he speaks of the people he slept with, he seems to hold a mixture of contempt and pity; but never anger; from the way he speaks of and with Sebastian, it even seems like, sometimes, perhaps in the early days of those 200 years he might have even allowed himself to indulge in small, brief attachments and hopes. Then, as fatigue settled in and the permanence of the situation hit him, I'm sure the motions became mechanized at best and agonizing at worst.

But I think whatever harm the experience has done to his sexuality or self-value, it's damage struck him tenfold in the concept of object permanence. Imagine it: throughout the course of two centuries, you are not allowed to form a connection with a single person who isn't damned to die later the same day. You never see the same face twice. You are never allowed to progress past impersonal first encounters. Astarion says he wants to be seen and known, but a reality that hurts almost more than being invisible is that there were probably thousands of people who would have loved to do that. But you ruined them as much as they ruined you.

I wholeheartedly believe that he was sick of sex, and that for decades to come there will be times when he still turns the lights off during the act, or, ideally, just says No Thank You and moves on, but the hypothetical that really haunts me is that other thing: the almost pavlovian association between sex and looming demise. That people are going to be taken away from you, so why bother being present?

This is a feeling he struggles with sorting through and vocalizing. And in turn, DU Drow often is under the assumption that this is all about sex, and about whether he truly wants it or not. This is yet another small theme in A Novel Experience but, in summary, for a while he still doubts Astarion's own agency to initiate or participate in it - this reduction of the issue as a matter of physical touch, while the big picture is much more complex.

And this does not always externalize in the far more palatably tragic "woe is me, everyone I love leaves" way. Sometimes Astarion still catches himself thinking of the ones he loves as disposable, and acting with due disregard for their lives like it's second nature.

But back on subject: he can have, does have, and likes sex. By finally being allowed to form a friendship and rapport with a sexual partner for whom he does not feel the need to perform to, he can finally enjoy the silly, the awkward, the gross and even the subpar aspects of sex with true intimacy; the anxiety sets after the fact, as he wonders about what comes next once you're out of his sight.

#ask #astarion

[redcherrykook]

𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙯𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙨 2!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡

College Photography Teacher!Jungkook x Student!Reader

27 year old, stupidly handsome asshole teacher Mr. Jeon has absolutely no human decency, he believes your victim complex is what keeps you from ever achieving anything, letting people use you as a bridge. When something unexpected happens, the ice starts to melt as a foreign word called "empathy" enters his egocentric lense. Maybe he will finally manage to teach you a lesson now, since you keep failing his class.

(Mini series)- Episode two!

song recommendation: too sweet- hozier

Content: Cold, mean, distant, unprofessional Jungkook, hurt, stubborn reader, enemies to lovers, lowkey dramatic, accident happens, mutually beneficial relationship (emotionally), Jk learns a lot from her, Jk is mean but has a soft spot for reader (eventually), 6 year age gap, Reader is from a struggling background, Jk kind of rescues her, happy ending, angst at first, fluff, smut, comedy/crack, bickering, college setting, brief hospital setting

Warnings: swearing, name-calling,mentions of an accident involving a biker, mentions of hospital, mentions of injuries, really mean Jungkook, i promise he gets sweet, mentions of trauma and abuse (non detailed), mental health struggles (semi detailed), arguments

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡

"You´re early" he grumbles, surprised at the figure stood in the empty classroom. At 8;30 am, 15 minutes before class, it is only natural for the hall to be empty. So it was only you standing there, dressed neatly, seemingly looking put together.

But Jungkook knew better. He didn´t even have to linger his penetrating gaze on the face of yours long to notice the exhaustion painted on your features.

As always, he turns a blind eye.

Everyone gets tired sometimes.

You nod, "I know, kind of did that on purpose" Standing there while opening your bag, you begin setting your books on the table. A rose colored journal slips out, landing perfectly on top of the books needed for his class. You had woken up early today, determined to not come late for a sixth time. Determined to try and keep up that yes, it was just an accident. Nothing more, no conspiracies.

The wind whispers from the open window, slipping in the fresh morning air, waving your hair with it in a swift but gentle swish.

nonetheless, he notices,

"Close the window, it is getting cold" he sits down at his desk, folding down the sleeves of his grey button down that so delicately revealed his strong form.

So you comply, shutting the air outside of the class.

"Thank you" the sound of two very simple, very common words catch you off guard. With a lean on the window behind you, your gaze shifts to the tall teacher propped up on his desk. Your mouth opens slightly to formulate a response but, cannot seem to gather what to say. Although in every other situation, it´s simple. You´re welcome.

"Calm down, I just thanked you. My god if you´re gonna react like this to every time i comply to that stupid deal of ours I´m gonna be sick" his arms cross in front of his chest, annoyed. Of course.

"I won´t, don´t flatter yourself" you shake your head slightly, moving to sit down at your desk. Certainly the conversation had been closed now. At this point, you did not expect him to engage in your bickering, soon the room would be filled with students.

However, you find out you were wrong,

"How are the injuries. Never asked about that" he´s not even looking at you when muttering a question you weren´t even sure was genuine. His eyes examining the laptop in front of him, much more engaged in the importance of his own tasks.

But Jungkook was not one to speak for filling a room simply to escape silence.

The urge to make fun of him for showing concern is lingering at the tip of your tongue, nevertheless, you bite down.

"Fine. Medium grade contusion on my right hip and lots of nasty bruises" you allow your eyes to wander along his features, letting yourself smile just a bit, hoping he would grand you a look.

"Good. Heal up quickly, you really aren´t in dire need for more absences after all"

His eyes leave the screen momentarily, glancing at you from behind his large squared glasses.

"Trying to. Thanks" your eyes meet for the split of a second before he returns to his priorities.

Just as the next student walks in.

"Good morning mr Jeon" he greets, receiving a nod from Jungkook in return.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"When is this gonna end", you mumble to yourself as you turn yet another page of given material. Yawning and stretching your arms up, you glance at the small numbers on the bottom right of your laptop that has been opened in front of you for what must have been 6 hours now.

9:45 pm already?

The schools library is most quiet at this time. The deafening, still comforting silence only breaks when the crashing of ice inside your drink or hushed words from your monologues make their way into the large study.

Most likely because the college library is already closed and you weren´t supposed to be here either. It´s not like you have ever been caught or are disturbing someone. Even the cleaning staff have become familiar with the long hours you spend sitting put at one of many desks inside the library. Admirable, they call it. In reality, this is as usual as it can get for you.

Only this time, things are different. You will be here the entire night, not just because you forgot how quickly time passes and suddenly the small rays of the morning sun kiss your hands,

It is out of necessity. For possibly the following nights as well. Until you find a new shelter that is willing to take in a runaway college student.

For a couple seconds you wonder how long it will take to find a one bedroom apartment you can afford with the below minimum wage tutoring job of yours. Working part time is impossible since ambitious, home having first year you decided to pack every possible class you could take right in your schedule.

One of the many things you regret.

A set of loud footsteps sound closer than the cleaning personal has ever been, ripping you right out the dream of a small, well decorated apartment. Mentally you groan, wondering if the day you had to be caught, really needed to be the day you would otherwise have to sleep on a park bench.

When the darkly colored wooden doors open to reveal who is roaming the hallways at a time you should be getting ready for bed, you simply can not believe your luck.

"Y/n?" the stern voice can never be mistaken for someone else, his eyes widening as he steps inside to approach your desk.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" obviously rhetorical he asks, swiftly pulling out the chair to your left and sitting down on it casually.

"I need to study. I´m not doing something wrong i swear, even the staff is fine with it, I just have so much work to do" in an attempt to rescue your chance at a warm sleep, you hurriedly let out every explanations that come to mind.

His eyes look down to your face when he slightly tilts his head back, his hand is now carefully placed on the table, tapping it rhythmically with his long and artful fingers.

I´m doomed.

"Interesting. Try doing that work when the library isn´t closed. Get up, you´re breaking the rules" the same hand that was tapping away motions upward to signal you; no really, get the fuck up.

Like the troublemaker you are, you stay put on your chair

"I can´t, I gotta get this done"

A familiar scoff escapes his lips "You cant be serious. I wasn´t asking. I said get up idiot"

"Jungkook please I really can´t" you plea with him pathetically. The way you must sound or look to him right now is far from your concern, what matters is the need to convince him.

His frustration is painted on his face so visibly you would be able to spot it from a mile away. Instead of you, he gets up, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Your eyebrows meet to express your utter confusion,

"What are you doing"

Jungkook´s eyes move over to yours, deadpanned as if you asked him the color of the sky, he looks at you.

"Calling the cops obviously. You´re Trespassing"

Your head shakes quickly as you repeat the words no,no,no,no,no while standing up and trying to get him to stop dialing. He takes a step back and groans, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Finally, leave now. I´ll come with you to make sure you actually leave and don´t try break in again"

"You're so annoying, model citizen over here"

"Thanks. You too" he grants you a fake smile before rolling his eyes so far back he would sure be able to see his brain.

You sigh, aware that any protest is useless or you might end up sleeping at the police station.

Gathering your things and already listing the possible parks and convenience stores you would need to pass time, sleep and study at in your head. Accepting the upcoming hardship you remember his words

Cruel world

A breathy laugh escapes your mouth at the memory.

"I can´t believe you were about to call the damn police on me" you turn to him while walking behind him and out the university. It´s pitch dark outside and you can barely make out any street signs.

"Well i believe in following the law. What way do you need to go?" his movements stop when he asked you that, waiting for a reply so he could make sure you were walking off in the right direction.

But, he was met with silence. You had no idea where to go and the freezing air combined with scarily dark surroundings had just made you register your situation. Where were you going to go?

Annoyed at the non response, he turns to look at you, expecting a pissed off stare or a blank look. He did not await you to look down with a frown of worry. Your head cocks slightly to the side, muttering "I don´t know yet"

Obviously, he doesn´t understand your reply. What could you possibly mean when saying you didn´t know where you lived.

That is until he remembered you living in a shelter.

She must be new there and had forgotten the address, careless as always.

"The hell am I supposed to get from that? Forgot your own goddamn address?" his hand rubs along his forehead, the tension between the both of you is as thick as the air around. Contradictory from his actions, his voice quiets down just a bit.

You decide to stay silent once more, debating if it would be worth telling him what is really going on. After the hospital situation you should be, you should be honest and try to let the deal actually work. Truth be told, the fear of being let down and belittled is much stronger at the moment.

Before you can open up your mouth to whip up a shitty excuse, he speaks again.

"Y/n, is there somewhere you can go?"

Jungkook could swear his heart drops to his stomach when he lets out these words, awaiting your reply patiently.

The question suffocates you, caught red handed you shake your head no, looking up to meet his concerned eyes. It was no use lying to him, he would be checking the library each and everyday, that would mean that you really had to spend multiple nights outside.

He lets out a sigh, placing both his hands on his hips.

"Why the fuck didn´t you tell me?"

"Seriously? I thought you were not gonna believe me and end up actually calling the cops, no thank you" your voice sounding almost unfamiliar after not speaking for a while.

"Sound like me can't even lie. Let's get back inside then" Jungkook says without waiting for your opinion, simply strutting back into the library. You can´t help but grin slightly at his abrubt nature. He goes back to sitting down at the very desk you were forced to leave 25 minutes ago.

"You´re gonna let me stay here?" the hopeful question makes his head shoot up from looking at the floor as he chuckles.

"No you smartass, that´s still illegal, and I´m still a law-abiding citizen. I´ll call around shelters and hotels with you, i guess"

Thanking whatever power rules this world at the tiniest amount of help you can get from Jungkook, you smile,

Meanwhile he is internally cussing himself out for being nice too quickly

"Thank you, seriously, didn´t think you would actually try and hold up your word"

"Didn´t you say you would not have this embarrassing reaction every time? Shut up before I change my mind" his eyes roll back to signal that he meant every word he said. Yours do too, to signal him that he is still an asshole.

His phone as well as yours end up getting taken out, spending the first fifteen minutes calling help centers and looking for cheap hotels

Unsuccessful at attempting to find an opening, you tell him that was expected since you were on basically every single waiting list you could register to.

"So help centers and shelters are off the list. Then let´s find you a decent hotel or something" he yawns, the inevitable need for sleep reaching him as the night deepens. You feel sorry for bounding him into your own personal mess, although it isn´t really your fault. He´s the one so addiment on not letting you stay at the library.

"Absolutely not. I really cannot afford that, I don´t even know for how long I would have to stay there, it´s too uncertain" your head meets the palm of your hand, closing your eyes while sighing at this stupidly vulnerable situation.

It must be past 11 pm already.

"I´ll lend you some money, just pay be back eventually"

"Fuck no" you laugh "That might take me years, and I´m far from comfortable with owing money"

Jungkook knows he can´t force you to, still provocatively he asks,

"What are your options then ?"

You open your mouth in disbelief, the obvious option being the room you are having the conversation in, "Just let me stay at the goddamn library, it´s safe and I don´t need to pay"

"It´s against the law and it is for more than one night" he remains sternly on his arguments

"Who gives a fuck about the law , will you seriously do anything to make me sleep on the streets Jungkook"

Your voice turns into somewhat of a yell, spitting out the frustration you feel towards this childish behaviour. Both of you are tired out of this hassle and want nothing more than to get some rest and peace of mind.

His eyes stay glaring, while his voice turns bitter, "You´re so stubborn, all that I´ve been trying to do is help you not sleep on a fucking bench you idiot. My god get that through the thick skull of yours. You think I´m gonna sleep well knowing one of my students, injured student at that, is spending the night on the streets?"

In all honesty, you knew he was correct. No one would sleep well knowing an acquaintance is in a dangerous spot and yeah, he had spend the past fourty minutes in your vicinity, the past 20 minutes trying to help and figure you out.

The night moves another ten minutes in silence, branches hitting the broad windows that are framing the lecture hall as the sighs of sleep deprivation and sorrow leave his lips.

You were begining to wonder how this would play out, assuming he would just sit there with you in silence until the sun came up.

But what then?

The guilt of keeping him entangled in your mess only continues to feed itself with each wordless minute that passes, you decide to tell him to go home, you would just figure it out yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had thought up something of his own,

"Stay at my apartment then. I have a guest room. We´ll get you something tomorrow and never speak about this again"

Nothing could have prepared you from the sentence that just left his lips. What is even worse about this, is how carelessly he said it, like a passing comment. Even when he basically suggested something comparable to running to the end of the rainbow for a goldpot.

"WHAT" you can´t help it, it just comes shooting out at the complete buffoonery of this situation, that somehow keeps happening with him.

He chuckled briefly at your outburst before combing through his raven hair, his eyes never changing from the standard glare

"Look, it´s fucking close to midnight, I need sleep and you need somewhere to sleep so I will be able to actually go to sleep"

His explanation is as self centered as you had awaited it to be,that does not take away from the fact that your teacher asked you to stay the night as his place.

"I- I can´t believe you would rather i sleep in your apartment than the library. No thank you, I´m taking the bench" your head shakes violently as your face turns from surprise to cringing at the idea.

There is no way in hell you would spend the night at your teachers house

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Okay, maybe i lied.

"Turn off the damn radio and- god fasten your seatbelt for fucks sake" Jungkook groans over to you in the passenger seat of his car.

It feels like a parade of clowns are banging on your door by the second you sat down into the black hyundai. Laughing at you like you were the circus performer, not them.

Somehow, he had managed to persuade you into taking up his offer. It is only for a couple hours after all, only to pass the night. So now, he´s bitching to you about something from the drivers seat, 8 minutes past midnight.

Ridiculous, so fucking annoying already. He thinks while reaching over your torso to loosen the seatbelt that is stuck behind the carseat.

Your breath hitches at his closeness, his arm grazing over yours for a millisecond when he reaches over.

Too close.

So close you can smell the cotton scented shampoo he uses, so close you could count the moles on his arms.

You haven´t spoken a word to him since agreeing on his offer and you don´t plan to. Originally, to lessen the awkwardness of everything, now, unsure if that made everything even more awkward.

Even your attempt to lighten the mood with the radio playing got rudely rejected by him.

What a long night it has been.

The drive is short, twelve minutes void of conversation and barely lit streets. Jungkook´s eyes don´t avert the road once, his stare never creeps it´s way over to check if you were still breathing. Given by the quiet as a mouse attitude of yours, it would certainly be a possibility.

Apart from the engine rumbling and the tires rolling on the concrete roads, you noticed his habit to hum whenever the traffic lights would turn green. He also only uses his right arm to drive, keeping his left pressed flat on his thigh.

Endearing, kind of.

Once parked in front of a small apartment complex, he gets out with you and your trusty backpack following right behind. The car locks as he enters the complex, then the elevator.

"Did you loose your voice or are you purposefully getting on my nerves" his tired speech cuts through the thick air,

finally

"Just don´t really know what to say. This is all so strange" you reply, trying to sound non-chalant when the hammering of your nervous heartbeat is so far up your throat, you might actually be sick.

"it is" he says, stepping outside of the elevator and rustling his keys to unlock the door, as if it is not his fault you guys ended up like this.

When the door opens, you are greeted with a white, dimly lit hallway. He takes off his shoes first before you repeat the action and walks into, what you would assume, the livingroom. The apartment is far from the cold and empty modernity you had expected. It´s quite cozy, small but filled with photography and paintings. The apartment generally smells just like him, cotton, a hint of wood and leather.

There are four doors around, one that is open clearly leading to the kitchen, two that are across from each other and one at the very back.

"Sit down on the couch, don´t stand there so awkwardly"

His suggestion is once again, more of a demand that you, as usual, comply to. Jungkook doesn´t try to show you around, skipping all the weird hosting formalities, except for one.

He sits down next to you, keeping a comfortable distance between both of your bodies

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Water would be good, yeah" the reply sounds painfully forced in an effort to keep the small talk and get to sleep as soon as possible.

The thought of having to face him the next morning made you want to rip your hair out, to try and distract yourself you look around the open space, taking in the beautiful pictures hung up around.

Once he sets the glass of water down you accept it gladly, drinking from it in another attempt to conceal the uncomfortable situation.

"Did you take these?" curiously you point to a collage above the coffetable in the corner of the room. It´s a collection of damp flowers and pretty fields, the color scheme is white and lavender.

It suits him, you think

"Mhm, took em´ four years ago" his voice echos through the walls of his home, following your stare directed at the collage.

"So photography can be pretty, maybe I´m really just talentless" you scoff, remembering the awful portfolio you handed him in.

"Yes, to both of those"

The comment seems to have softened the mood a little bit, you can physically feel your shoulders release tension.

"Jungkook?" now it is his turn to look at you, trying to guess what would follow the sound of his name out of your mouth. He can´t help but jump a bit every time it rolls off of your tongue, natural but uncomfortable at once.

"yeah?", he says

"i know you hate this but I really can not, well, not say this. Thank you for your effort. You may be an asshole but you definitely are a man of your word. You wasted way too much time and concern and fuck, even let me stay here. I owe you something" once your rant is finished, you laugh before searching his face for the scoff you usually see presented there, regardless of the situation.

Only to find it gone,

It has been replaced by a soft smile, something so foreign on his face, it made you feel a spark of joy.

"I guess that was pretty nice of me. You definitely owe me some shit. I´ll get you the sheets yeah? we need to get some rest" Without really acknowledging what you had told him, he brushes past the attempt of a heartfelt conversation. To you, he didn´t have to say anything, the smile was enough to signal,

You´re welcome.

Now you stood there, sheets in hand, trying not to look at your teacher in his guest bedroom.

While putting the sheets on the bed, he stays leaning against the doorframe, watching you blankly

"Mind if i ask, you know, what happend?"

It hadn´t occurred to you before that you never actually spoke the words i got kicked out of the shelter

"With things like shelters, women with children have, righteously so, priority over runaway college kids. That´s all" , you explain,your eyes fixated on the task before you, finally finishing it up, the satisfaction of sleep inching way closer that it is now basically in reach.

He hums in response, making you look at him, leaned against his doorframe, full glory in grey sweats and a black shirt, hair laying messily over his glasses

When did he get changed?

"So. about tomorrow then, I´m guessing you won´t be able to find something so fast" tainted by exhaustion his voice tries it´s best to sound stern, nevertheless, a yawn escaping his lips makes him feel much less distant than usual.

Maybe it's just the fact that you're in his house, but that is besids the point.

"Yeah sherlock that is why i kept trying to tell you to just let me sleep at the damn library" you roll your eyes, this is the fifth time you tried explaining that to Jungkook. As a teacher, you expected him to be a little faster than that.

"Oh my god this again? I´ll kick you out if you protest one more damn time. You can just fucking stay here until a shelter calls you back, Why are you so attached to that library"

The last part arrives to your ear fuzzily as he had already shut the door of the guest bedroom, leaving you to think for yourself with what he had just uttred

Slipped secretly between his cussing he offered you to live with him temporarily. Just like that, blatant, sudden, plain. The words ring in your head, over and over again.

You can just fucking stay here

Like it´s no big deal

Whatever

You would deal with it tomorrow, it was just a comment. Sleep is far more necessary, begging you to finally rest for the remaining couple hours of the night. Too exhausted to continue thinking,

"Good night to you as well" you yell, opening the door just a bit for him to hear, earning a groan in response.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #redcherrykook

[aemondsbabe]

summary: your uncle catches you sneaking from the keep and decides you need to be punished, but finds a sweet surprise instead

pairing: daemon x niece!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, infidelity but it's not really mentioned rhaenyra just exists lol, mentions of menstruation, reader is on her period, period kink on daemon's part, blood kink, blood, spanking, mild coercion, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m), slight corruption kink, good cop/bad cop daemon

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and daemon and, being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it -- choosing our own characters & how to play the story!

🩸masterlist of everyone's fics here!

all board creds to the lovely @zaldritzosrose ♥️

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

“Uncle, please!” You plead again, though you know it’s useless; your voice carries in the empty corridors of the Keep, “I promise I won’t do it again! I swear it!” 

Daemon merely grunts in response, his grip on your shoulder tightening while he guides you along. You struggle to keep up with his long strides, his quick pace nearly knocking you over; your heart leaps into your throat when you’re finally tugged to a lurching stop.

“In you get,” he says gruffly, leaving you no room to argue as he ushers you into his study, “You and I have much to discuss, little niece.”

Huffing petulantly, you duck under his arm and slowly make your way into the small chamber. Truthfully, it was normally used as storage for the library but since Daemon and Rhaenyra and their sons had been back in King’s Landing, he had all but commandeered it for himself and had ordered that a writing desk be brought into the room. Glancing around at the various high bookshelves, you wince when he finally pulls the door closed. 

“Now,” he drawls, walking around to stand before you, arms crossed over his broad chest, “Do you want to explain to me exactly why I found you sneaking through the halls at this hour?” His violet eyes bore into yours, making you feel flush under his exacting stare. 

“I was merely going to the kitchens!” You murmur defensively, holding his gaze for only a second longer before glancing away, “I just… I was going to get more of the lemon cakes we had at dinner this evening! I know it’s naughty, but I –”

“No,” he cuts you off, voice low and firm as he narrows his eyes at you, no doubt seeing through your lies with ease. “You were being naughty, sweet niece, I dare say that bit is true,” he smirks, hooking a finger under your chin and forcing your eyes up toward his, “But we both know it wasn’t lemon cakes you were after.”

“I-It was!” You try once more, internally flinching at the way your voice cracks.

“This is a very fine dress for simple lemon cakes, then, isn’t it?” His brows raise knowingly while his other hand comes up to pluck at an embroidered sleeve. 

“Well… well it wouldn’t be proper to be out in my night –”

“So, it’s propriety you’re so concerned with now, is it?” He cuts you off again, smirking wildly as he’s hardly even having to work at cornering you, the sweet little thing that you are, “That’s quite funny, seeing as how it’s also very improper for a young lady, a young princess at that, to be out galavanting around King’s Landing all night…”

You balk at that, lips parting in surprise as your brows furrow. “I wasn’t!” You quickly breathe, voice sounding more like a mousey little squeak, “I would never, uncle! I merely… I o-only got dressed to go to –”

“Come now,” he says slowly, voice low but firm, “This isn’t even the same pretty dress you had on at dinner. If you’re going to lie, at least try and be good at it.”

You open your mouth instinctually, a defensive reply ready on your tongue, though you quickly think better of it and snap your lips shut once more, jaws clenched. Your eyes flit away from him and your heart hammers in your chest; you hate the way you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you swallow thickly, fighting against the tightness building at the back of your throat, the stinging behind your eyes. 

“Shh, there’s no need for all that,” he murmurs, swiping a thumb beneath your eye to quickly wipe away an errant tear; your breath catches in your throat at how quickly he can shift from intimidating to doting. 

“Please… please don’t tell my mother,” you whine, switching to bargaining instead, “If she finds out, I won’t be allowed out again until I’m married and Gods know when that might be…”

He chuckles at that, a playful smirk on his lips when he shakes his head. “I won’t tell on you, sweetling,” he all but croons, making you relax somewhat until you see a devious gleam in his eyes, “If you tell me what you were really up to. Because I know damn well it wasn’t lemon cakes.”

Your heart sinks again and you chew at your bottom lip for a moment, nervously wringing your hands. You cannot tell him the truth, you know that much but you hardly trust yourself to speak at all, fearing he’ll work it out of you one way or another.

Daemon’s impatient grumble makes you wince. “I was just… just going to a tavern! Honest!” You rush out, squeaking and stumbling over your words like a nervous mouse, “I merely wanted to go out on my own! Just once!”

He stays silent for a moment, eyes boring into yours and narrowing just slightly, before he sighs heavily and shakes his head. “What in the world were you thinking?” He murmurs, sounding exactly as he does when he scolds little Joffrey, “Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to you?”

“I would’ve been careful!”

“It’s not about what you would’ve done, naive little thing,” he snickers, making your cheeks flush, “Certainly you’re aware that nearly every man in that wretched city would give to –”

“I’m quite aware,” you interject, snapping in annoyance and shuddering at the thought of what he was insinuating. 

“Careful,” your uncle warned, gaze darkening and growing serious once more, “Don’t take that tone with me, I could very well march you right to your mother; you’ll be lucky to be made a septa if she catches wind of this.”

Your jaws clench and you have to fight the urge to scoff, to roll your eyes. “Well, I don’t appreciate you speaking to me like I’m some idiotic child!”

“Oh, aren’t you?” He huffs, taking a step closer to you, “Only an idiotic little fool would venture into King’s Landing in the dead of night to get up to Gods know what with Gods know who!” 

“I told you!” You bite back, trying to keep your voice steady, “We would’ve been –” 

The air feels as if it’s been sucked out of the room by the time you manage to shut yourself up, though it’s already much too late. Daemon’s head tilts to the side curiously, a sinister smirk on his lips once more, the second you squeeze your eyes shut and internally scold yourself for making such an error.

“We?” 

“Aegon,” you admit after a tense moment, knowing there’s hardly any use in drawing it out further.

“Ah, Aegon,” he drawls, chuckling to himself as he nods, “Letting big brother take you on a tour of the city then?”

“Something like that,” your voice is little more than a whisper while you nervously bite at your lip, keeping your eyes downcast.

“My, my,” you can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him as he circles you, arms behind his back, “An unplucked little flower, galavanting around the city, and with a married man, no less.”

Again, you clench your jaw as anger builds within you, grinding your teeth together while you will yourself to just stay quiet. You can’t help but remember a story Aegon had told you once, years before. At the time, you thought it was nothing more than a rumor, just old family gossip compounded by the murmurings of smallfolk. Now, though, just the mere chance that there may be even a sliver of truth to it makes your blood run hot. 

How dare he.

Daemon snickers again, the sound of it makes you clench your fists. “I do wonder what my dearest brother would think of that.”

“Yes, uncle, what would father think?” You snap before you can help yourself, lips set into a tight frown while you peer up at him.

“I said careful –”

“Because he’s heard all of that before, hasn’t he?” You try, heart skipping a beat when his eyes widen just slightly before quickly narrowing again.

“Watch yourself.”

“No!” You scoff, chest heaving with a righteous rage, “You’re no better than me, certainly no better than Aegon – doing the exact same thing to Rhaenyra! You’ve no right to lecture me in this –”

“I married her, that is the difference,” he says lowly, a harshness to his tone you’ve never heard before; he grips your shoulder with one hand, fingers digging almost painfully into your skin, “I made an honest woman of her, something your drunken cunt of a brother cannot ever do.”

“An honest woman,” you scoff, some part of your subconscious is begging you to shut up but you ignore it, “Honest enough to birth three strong boys, isn’t that right uncle?” 

That’s the final nail in your proverbial coffin – echoing Aemond’s words from earlier in the evening, though you suppose you at least had the wherewithal to not ruin dinner. 

“That’s it,” Daemon snaps, violet eyes burning with a fire that would rival that of the Dragonmont, “I really didn’t want to have to do this, princess.”

Your brows furrow for only a second and you’re silently planning an escape route as he presses against your shoulder, assuming that he’s making good on his threats to parade you before your parents. Your cheek is already pressing against the smooth, dark wooden surface of the desk before you register that he was never pushing you toward the door. 

Flustered and disoriented, alarm bells ring in your head as you squirm against the hand on your back, pinning you down. Your eyes widen when you feel him tugging your skirts up, panic flooding through you when you realize what he’s doing.

“Uncle, please!” You plead, bracing your hands against the desk as you attempt to push yourself up to no avail, “I’m sorry, truly! I didn’t mean it!”

“Enough!” Daemon barks, pulling your skirts up over your backside and letting the fabric bunch in against the small of your back, “You need to be taught some manners, little brat.” 

You hardly have time to take in another lungful of air before his hand is cracking down against your rear, making you yelp even as the pain of it is dulled by the thin fabric of your smallclothes. You fight against his hold all the while, grunting and squirming like a rabbit in a trap. 

Unfortunately, he realizes after a moment that this particular method doesn’t seem to be quite enough. A little panicked yell is wrenched from your lips when you feel his fingers hook into the waist of your smallclothes, making an icy chill run down your spine for an altogether different reason than the threat of pain.

“Uncle Daemon, wait!” You beg, shoving an arm behind your back and attempting to bat away his hand, “Y-You can’t, you mustn’t!”

“Come now,” he scoffs, easily pushing your hand away, “It’s only a backside, sweet niece, you think I haven’t seen one before?”

“It’s not tha –”

“And you seemed more than prepared to let dearest Aegon see much more than that, hm?” He drawls, going to tug at the fabric once more.

“I wasn’t!” You try again, desperate to make him understand, “W-We couldn’t have done anything, anyway!”

“Couldn’t have done…?” He questions, brows furrowing as he finally wrenches your smallclothes over the curve of your rear, tugging them unceremoniously down until they hang at your knees. It’s only then that he sees the issue, unable to keep the smirk off of his face as he hears you whine softly against the desk. 

This is what all that fuss was about? He thinks, eyes trailing over the bright red streaks, tacky on your inner thighs, until they settle on the blood soaked linens folded in the gusset of your underwear. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he sighs, the hand on your back rubbing up and down in a way that would be soothing in any other circumstance. “Now, what were you saying?” He asks casually, like he’s talking to you about the weather and like your arse isn’t out on display. 

“Aegon… Aegon and I couldn’t have done anything anyway,” you try again, praying he’ll take mercy on you, “Because of, well…”

“Because of what? A little blood?”

You merely nod, flushing so badly that your cheeks tingle as blood rushes to them.

“Oh, you sweet little lamb,” he coos, suddenly bringing a hand down against your rear again, smirking when you yelp at the sting, “Do you think men care about getting their swords a little bloody?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as he smacks you again, easily holding you down when you begin struggling once more. Again, his eyes trail over your slit, heart quickening in his chest while he admires the crimson against your skin. Rhaenyra has only let him have her like this a scant few times, the pains that come along with her monthly blood keeping her from arousal and though he has not given into his cravings, he would be a fool to deny them. 

His jaw clenches as he grits his teeth, spanking you yet again, alternating between cheeks, before soothing the sting with gentle caresses and smirking when you shiver at the soft touch. You remind him of her, you always have, though he’s never voiced it. All youthful vigor, filled with an untamed confidence that only naivety can bring, and with a fiery temper to match – more like your half-sister than you knew. 

Perhaps his desires could be managed in… other avenues. 

He brings his hand down once more, relishing the way you squirm and cry, your delicate skin hot beneath his palm. His member stirs, pressing angrily against the ties of his trousers, when he notices a little rivulet of red running down your inner thigh.

“You know,” he starts, petting his hand over your back while you sob, tears leaking onto his desk, “Many men quite enjoy their women this way, sweet niece.”

He smirks when he hears your breath hitch, swears he can hear your heart fluttering like the wings of a little bird in the quiet chambers. 

“Warm, open… slick,” he drawls, taking a second to squeeze at the soft skin at the back of your thigh, the very tip of his thumb just barely running through a little crimson drip. He brings his hand up, marvels at the dark droplet staining his finger for only a second, before flicking it away with his tongue. 

You gasp, having been watching curiously from the corner of your eye as an altogether different kind of heat swarms your veins. You don’t fight his hold any longer, victim to his spell even as your mind wars with itself. 

“I-It’s messy, though…” You try, your voice sounding unconvincing to your own ears; you swallow nervously when he chuckles. 

“Mm, it’s not all that different from any other honeyed hole, sweet niece,” Daemon soothes, putting your worries at ease while he trails a hand over your inner thighs, licking his lips at the way your tacky skin feels against his fingers, “It can be messy, yes, but… some men prefer mess.”

Do you? You wonder, although you already know the answer, legs spreading unconsciously at his touches. A whine slips from your lips when he moves his hand back up, rubbing it over your still sore backside. 

“Still stings?” He asks, one eyebrow raised. He tuts when you nod, soothing you gently, like the sting isn’t his fault, “Lucky for you, I know just the thing for it.”

“What…?” You question, brows furrowing as you attempt to push yourself up from the desk, only to be pushed back down against it – albeit a little gentler this time. 

“You just relax,” he croons, all traces of the anger from before gone; the fires within him extinguished at the thought of finally getting what he’s missed for so long, “Let uncle kiss it better, hm?”

A shiver goes through you at his words and your breath catches in your throat, eyes wide as you feel him move around you, slinking from his place at your side to your back. Fabric rustles behind you and just as you open your mouth to ask what’s going on, a loud gasp tears itself from your throat. 

Daemon kneels on the floor behind you, bent down on one knee, and leans in, pressing a gentle, feather light kiss against one cheek before alternating to the other. His hands grab at your hips, holding you in place, eyes trained on the side of your head drinking in the little flashes of emotion on your face – shock and uncertainty slowly giving way to a cautious curiosity. He could work with that. 

“Feeling better?” He husks, smirking against your soft skin when he sees you nod, hears the little whimper halfway trapped in your throat. He carries on, pearlescent hair tickling the backs of your thighs each time he leans in, kissing your skin. Eventually, his touches begin to linger, hands rubbing over the sides of your thighs while his tongue licks against you every so often. The soft, patient touches soothe you, tamper your worry, and soon enough pleased little sighs and hums begin filling the room, music to his ears. 

Quickly, he pulls at the ties of his trousers, groaning against the curve where your ass and thigh meet when his member springs free, bobbing against his lower belly. Wrapping a hand around himself, he continues – kissing and licking along the backs of your thighs before finally reaching what he most desires.

“U-Uncle!” You gasp, eyes squeezing shut when he licks into the crease of your thigh, the skin there no doubt smeared with the blood you can feel running down your legs every few moments, painting streaks of red down to your knees. 

Your feeble little warble is drowned out by the deep, throaty growl that leaves him – a man dying of thirst finally finding an oasis in the desert. He nudges at your thigh, panting a low, “Good girl,” when you part them more – as much as your smallclothes, still bunched around your knees, will allow. His head spins thinking of how passionate you’ll become with more experience, already so eager.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, spitting into his palm and grunting while he works a hand over his cock, panting as he admires your flowering center for a moment – your little petals shining, crimson staining your skin nearly all the way down to your knees. He feels like a man possessed, drunk and proud as his cock twitches against his palm. 

Another groan rumbles in his chest when he dives in, all thoughts of being gentle and slow thrown to the wayside as he presses his face against you, uncaring as to whether he can fill his lungs or not. 

“Daemon!” You yelp, hands scrambling over the smooth surface of the desk, mind reeling while you try to find something, anything to hold onto. His tongue is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, eons better than the way your own fingers feel pressed against your cunt in the wee hours of the morning. 

Your chest heaves when he groans against you, tongue toying with the stiff little bud at the apex of your slit for a second before he fucks it into you, all but punching whines and moans from your throat. Your cheeks flush at the sound of it, the slick, wet sounds of his tongue working against you almost painfully loud in the small study. 

His hips rut into his hand as he suckles at your pearl, burying his nose into you while deep moans resound in his chest — head clouded at the taste of you, at the slick feel of your blood against his lips, on his tongue. 

Gods, he’s missed this. 

The fire in his belly builds steadily while he takes what he needs from you, the little throbs your cunt gives around his tongue only serving to push him further and further toward the end. 

“Seven Hells, you taste divine,” he growls, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock, his other hand tugging an arse cheek to the side, opening you more for him before skimming his fingers over your taut bud, smirking at the way your core clenches. 

“Please, please,” you pant, hips canting against the edge of the desk, breath foggy against the dark wood.

“Don’t worry, sweetling,” he murmurs, licking your taste from his lips, “I’m not done with you yet.” 

Your knees nearly buckle when he licks you again, laving his tongue over the entirety of you – lapping from your pearl almost all the way up to your other hole, the thought of such a thing stealing the air from your lungs. Your mind reels as he suckles at you, core aching from how tightly the knot in your tummy is wound. 

Daemon growls against you, the rhythm of his hand stuttering the closer he gets, stones pulling tight as he nears his end. He can tell you’re close as well from the way you press back against him, rutting on his tongue while breathy little moans tumble, unbidden, from your lips. 

The thought of your wet cunt clenching around his tongue causes his length to pulse again, causes it to leak against his fingers. Gods, he needs that. 

“Ah!” You pant when he redoubles his efforts and presses his tongue as far into you as he can, groan rumbling against you as he nuzzles into your folds, savoring the sweet coppery taste on his tongue. 

He feasts then, hand striping up and down his cock with abandon while he fucks his tongue into you, curling it and pressing it against as much of you as he can while his chin presses against your pearl, pulling loud cries from you. 

“U-Uncle, uncle, I… Gods, Daemon, I’m…” you stutter, words dying on your lips as pleasure threatens to white out your mind. You pant, breathlessly rocking against his face while your body tenses, instinctively preparing for the incoming onslaught. 

He grunts into you, fucking into his fist while his other hand squeezes at your arse. His eyes roll back in his head when he feels you tighten on his tongue, your walls finally beginning to suck at him in earnest. Just as his stones tighten to the point of no return, he smacks his hand against your rear once more, groaning victoriously as the dam finally breaks. 

“Fuck!” You shout, muscles tensing and falling limp all in the same breath as your high slams into you, rough and unforgiving — heightened by your menstrual flux. You can hear Daemon grunting and growling behind you, your cunt pulsing on his tongue. 

Below you, he feels as if he’s ascended to the clouds, stomach lurching like it does when Caraxes takes flight. He groans, long and loud, against you, into you, as his cock throbs, spend splashing down against his trousers, dripping to the floor. 

“O-Oh!” You breathe, hips twitching as he licks over you for a moment more, taking all he can. Your little tired cries make him chuckle as his touches border on overstimulation. He finally takes mercy on you and pulls away with a satisfied sigh, tucking his member back into his trousers as he stands, grunting at the soreness of his knee. 

There’s a heady fondness in his eyes as he lets them trail over you, watching as you catch your breath, limp. “Feel okay?” He asks, petting a hand down your spine before bending to press a sweet kiss against the back of your shoulder. 

You nod, your cheek slick against the desk while you finally start coming back to yourself. “Gods,” you sigh tiredly, blinking the fog from your eyes. 

Daemon chuckles at that, his normally mouthy niece reduced to little sighs. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and walks to a small mirror on the wall, well really an old, polished placard, but it’ll do. 

His eyes widen when he catches sight of himself, features distorted somewhat in the reflective golden surface, but clear enough to see the blood left on his skin. A smirk grows on his lips and he lets himself admire it for a second, mind flashing back to the aftermath of his victory against the Crabfeeder, before he begins wiping at his skin. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees you beginning to stir, arms shaking as you push yourself up from the desk. He stares at his reflection for a moment, jaw clenching as his heart pangs feebly. 

With a sigh, he walks the few steps over to you and steadies you, pressing a hand to your back. “Careful,” he warns, playful glint in his eyes while he guides you to the spare chair against the wall and coaxes you to sit, not caring if the fabric gets stained, “You’ll give me a complex.” 

Your lips quirk into a smile at that and you chuckle, eyes widening when you finally get a good look at him. “Ohh…” you balk, not expecting to see blood, your blood, trailing down his chin, painting him like a satiated lion, “I’m… I’m sorry…” You murmur, not knowing what else to say. 

“Why?” He chuckles, affectionately carding his fingers through your hair as he blindly wipes at his face a little more, “Did you not enjoy it?” 

“I did…” you admit softly, bashful before him now. Strength seems to find you again and you bend forward to pull up your smallclothes, only to stop yourself when Daemon leans down to do it himself. 

“Then there’s no reason to be sorry,” he says with a sigh, pulling your smallclothes back into place and letting you adjust them to your fancy, “Blood can be wiped away, sweetling.” 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier too,” you murmur, wringing your hands while the two of you stand together. You watch as he busies himself with righting his clothes, making sure his trousers are tied well and smoothing out his tunic. You can’t help thinking that he looks handsome like this, finally seeing him how Rhaenyra might. 

Nervously, you pull at your skirts, smoothing them out and fidgeting with your bodice. You look up when he clears his throat, surprised to be met with a smile. 

“As I said,” he placed a hand on your shoulder, gentle this time, “Blood can be wiped away, sweet girl.”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

check out the rest of the pieces in this collab here!

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fanfiction #daemon fanfic #daemon fic #daemon smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon smut #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hotd smut #collab #fic collab #my writing

[judesfavflvr]

Please can you write an imagine of Jude Bellingham so let’s say Jude and reader have a toddler daughter who is obsessed with her daddy and when she sees Jude playing with other kids of his teammates she gets super jealous and instead goes to her mummy (the reader) which is unusual bc she always follows Jude like a shadow. You are all confused by her new behaviour and then she tells you and Jude the reason that she wants her daddy to herself and his teammates jokes around saying your daughter is just like her mummy. Something like that and please make it long xx (I got inspired by the videos of Jude playing with his teammates kids)

࿐ ˚ . ✦ as the final came to an end, you made your way out onto the pitch where jude and his teammates were already celebrating, your daughter, grace, already running before you, always excited to see her dad. she was always running after him, imitating his shadow with the way she never stopped following him around.

she however faltered halfway across the pitch, her brows pinched into a frown, her lips pouted slightly. you finally caught up with her, extending your arm down for her to take. she was in a trance as she held your hand, making you question her odd behavior. usually she'd be fighting to see her dad, struggling against your grip that held her back until he finished up with his media duty.

"what's gotten into you? come on, daddy's over there" you mumbled, dragging her with you. jude looked up when he spotted you two approaching, one of the many kids running around in his arms.

"there are my two girls" his grin widened, his lips finding yours before placing a soft kiss against grace's temple, his voice even softer when he spoke to her, "how'd you feel watching daddy win?"

you looked down at grace, expecting her run to him, hug his leg, cling onto his arm, but she just muttered a simple "good", remaining still. you nudged her his way slightly, confused when she wouldn't budge.

"she must've hated that" you muttered, shrugging as you looked up at jude who was now frowning down at her before getting distracted by his teammates that had joined you two, greeting you and grace.

the kid in jude's arms failed around when he spotted his own dad, running to him once jude put him down. jude then bent down, his arms open for grace to find her usual spot between them, but she instead clung to you, looking up at you and raising her arms for you to pick her up.

"she doesn't like you" camavinga chimed in from his spot next to jude, a wide grin on his face as he watched the way jude's frown deepened, looking at you two as if offended.

"what's wrong, baby?" jude came closer to where you stood, tilting his head down so he was on grace's level where she sat propped up on your arm. she just looked away, resting her head against your chest.

"grace, are you not happy daddy won?" you asked, a soft smile on your lips, appreciating the unusual affection from your daughter. she finally picked her head up, a solid pout on her lips, representing her father's own.

"daddy's mine" she muttered, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. you two raised your eyebrows, laughter erupting around you at her antics.

"of course daddy's yours, whose else would he be?" jude questioned, his hands coming up to take her away from you, and she let herself be carried away.

"no other kids" she was serious as she spoke, her arms still crossed as she demanded her dad agree. he chuckled, nodding his head as he kissed her cheek.

"no other kids, just grace. got it" he smiled as she finally let her arms drop, her little head resting on his shoulder, finally in her element.

"sounds like she's picking up someone's behavior" you didn't catch who made that comment, but you were quick to catch onto the meaning, and it was in no time that similar jokes were being thrown around.

"she's more like her mom than i thought"

"you ought to watch it bellingham, don't want her ending up too much like her mom" your jaw dropped at the accusations being made, you never deemed yourself that jealous.

"oh come on, i'm nowhere near as jealous as-" jude cut you off with his lips on yours, grace giggling from her spot.

"we both know you're worse" he whispered, his free arm pulling you into his side.

#ʚɞ lanita writes #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jb5 #x reader #jude bellingham fanfic #fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x you #jb #jude bellingham fluff #real madrid imagine

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: IV

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

Masterlist, Latibule 2.III

The fact that he was not even trying anything was what was making you be more on edge.

It had been more than three days now and he still hadn’t done anything except following you wherever you went. He turned into your very own version of a shadow, never straying more than a foot away. Despite your diminishing sight, you could see how people went out of their way to avoid your path. You surmised that it was because of the man following you closely. You didn’t have to turn to see the glare he was freely giving anyone as though he was your guard dog, or the dark energy he was emitting like a disturbed cat you used to frequently liken him to.

You were close to your breaking point. Your future laid uncertain, more so about your survival and likelihood that you would see your beautiful son once again just because his father was confusing you.

His motives confused you. If he was here to end you, why hadn’t he done so, yet? If he wanted to talk to you and ensure that you wouldn’t blab to anyone about who he truly was, about his other identity, why hadn’t he done so yet?

Why hadn’t he done anything except to follow you?

You were never a good actress, and you knew sooner rather than later that he would inadvertently notice. Honestly, you were already sick with anxiety and you didn’t know what you would do should you take this one more day. This had to stop and you needed to know why he was doing this.

And what exactly was he doing you asked?

Take for example, right now as you were trying to enjoy your meal in a small diner. His presence was unsettling and his eyes, like dark pools, seemed to follow your every move with a mix of intensity and longing that sent shivers down your spine. Not only was he eating on a booth in front of yours, but he also paid for your meal. He even went as far as threatening the waiter with his eyes to make it appear that the meal was free due to some made up celebration.

You couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all. Unicorn Day? What kind of excuse was that? What even was a unicorn day?! That did not even exist! But even as you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, a nagging question lingered in the back of your mind. Why was he going to such lengths to keep you close?

More so… why was he pitifully eating his meal alone, his gaze held a certain softness and daresay yearning in them? Why did he look so…lonely?

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his intentions.

However, it was becoming less likely now that he wanted you gone when you came home and finally found solitude. You were going through the motion for the night. Your hands were running across the table as a guide, a thing that you had learned to do when you hit yourself too many times from the edge of the table, when you felt what seemed to be a protective gear used in the corner of tables. And then all at once, you noticed all the little things that had changed without you fully noticing.

The bathroom tiles had more friction to what you were used to, the kitchen utensils lost their heaviness, and the doorknobs were now noticeably noisier than before.

And now that you were alone without his overbearing presence clouding your judgement, without him breathing down your neck that caused you to immensely fear for your life, that you started to look on the other side of your horror: did he do all of these for you?

Perhaps, you were able to tolerate it all because of the anticipation of pain you thought you’d get from him. But this softness and tenderness displaced you. Somehow, this was worse. This was something you couldn’t bear, not when you now knew who he truly was. You couldn’t take this, you couldn’t let all of this change anything – especially when you now had someone to protect. You struggled to think of what could happen should he find out that his clever deception brought someone in this world.

Sleep had greatly eluded you that night regardless of how weary you felt. Your thoughts were all over the place, consumed by worry for your son right now. You couldn’t even step out to find solace and watch the stars like you used to do when your thoughts were just too loud. What was the use, you thought, when you could no longer see their beauty?

You had your eyes closed, now accustomed to darkness and your body was even when you heard it– a miniscule creaking of the floorboard, followed by the gentle opening of the door. He was here, you surmised.

Agustd was here.

Was he here to finally do the deed? Was he here to finally end all of this chaos? Did he wait until the dead of the night so that there wouldn’t be any witness? So that the job would be easy? So that he wouldn’t have to look into your eyes as he delivered the final blow to your heart?

Despite the terrifying thoughts racing through your mind, you were still as a board. You were greatly anticipating the pain as he drew near, his familiar scent, once beloved by you so much, was now making you acutely aware of his proximity more than ever before.

You could feel the heat from his body. You could hear the gentle rustling of his coat as he moved. This was it, you thought. This was your end, and maybe it was for the best. Hoseok would take care of your son. He was evidently fond of him. You knew that multifaceted man loved your child despite who his father was. You knew it the moment you woke up when your child was only a month old and found him gone from your side only to discover Hoseok gently comforting your crying son with his ridiculous stories, his voice painting a story. You knew it the moment he patiently stood by your son’s side when he was sick. You knew it when he cried when your child took his first step. Despite what transpired that fateful night, Hoseok was good to you and your son.

You trusted him.

You felt the side of your bed dipped from Agustd’s weight, yet it was his hand that you first felt. His calloused hand tenderly caressed your face, his touch so faint that you almost wondered if this was real. His thumb softly touched your lips and it lingered there for a moment that you wondered how you were able to control your breathing. You had gone years without him, his existence merely both a nightmare and a wonderful dream only in your memories. You had put him behind, hadn’t you? You had fully squashed any hopes that you and him would be anything other than a disaster, hadn’t you? You had repeatedly told yourself that you would never again let yourself feel anything for him, hadn’t you?

So why then was your heart shattering? Why then now that he was near, now that he was touching you, did your beliefs and your resolute heart wavered?

You could take him following you around. Honestly, you would rather take him being your shadow instead of this because then you could play pretend that he was not here.

You were about to open your eyes when you felt a drop on your cheek. Then, it was as though a dam overflowed as you felt teardrops cascading down your skin and the hand touching you trembling with both grief and relief.

Perhaps, if you could see him now, you'd understand how deeply you were intertwined in each and every part of him. If only you could witness how your absence and your inability to see now broke him, then all your hesitations about him would vanish because no man whose heart was not owned by you would cry as much as he was right now. No man who loved you as hard as he did could withstand this.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone in this world, my angel. Thank you for being alive,” he whispered in the silence of the night.

Min Yoongi’s POV

You were alive and it should be enough for him.

But Min Yoongi had always been a greedy man. He was a despicable man who always craved for more and blamed it all on from his terrible childhood to his twisted parents. He knew he was greedy when he took the organization that had been in his Jin hyung’s family for decades and ventured into darker places no one dared to go. He knew he was greedy when he didn’t stop there and even took hold of the police force for himself. More so, he knew he was greedy when he found you alive and instead of being contented that you were here, that you made good on your promise and didn’t go where he couldn’t follow, he still wanted…no. He craved the warmth brought by your proximity. He wanted you so near to him that you couldn’t breathe without him knowing, that you couldn’t think without him hearing your own thoughts.

He wanted you by his side that you couldn’t leave again. He wanted you so close that no one would dare to hurt you anymore.

However, there was this part of him that was good regardless of how minuscule it was. It was the same part that you were able to reach, the one that made you believed that he was incapable of inflicting pain to others, the one that made the betrayal so much more painful to you. And now, that part was warring with the dark side of him to let you be. It was the same part that whispered that he was somehow to blame for all of this, that had he left you alone, you wouldn’t be in this mess. It was the same part that whispered that he should be happy that you were alive, and that alone should be enough. It was your second chance in life but this time, it shouldn’t be with him.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling into fists as he wrestled with the conflicting desires raging within him. He wanted to reach out to you, to pull you into his embrace and never let you go, but he knew he had already hurt you enough. And so, he stood there, silently battling the demons that threatened to consume him whole.

Perhaps, this was why he did nothing but to follow you and to watch you from a distance, only letting himself near you when you couldn’t know, only letting him touch you when you wouldn’t be able to push him away in disgust.

His train of thoughts and self-hatred were interrupted by his phone. Yoongi looked down at his ringing phone before bringing it to his ear, turning away from you as he answered. The street was busy but he had clear vision of you from behind, and the crosswalk hadn’t signaled yet for pedestrians to proceed.

“Yoongi-ah, where’s my niece and nephew?”

Here he goes again, Yoongi thought. He chuckled at his ridiculous question, his Jin hyung still hadn’t given up on his agenda of them having families of their own. His hyung's unwavering determination to see all of them settle down and start a family was both endearing and exasperating at times. “You won’t even ask how I am?”

Jin's response was swift and filled with characteristic enthusiasm.  “You found her. I’d say your more than okay. That is exactly why I’m expecting a nephew, preferably, within 9 to 10 months, okay? I’m buying Louis Vuitton onesies as we speak.”

Yoongi listened to his Jin hyung’s plans of buying his supposed nephew the most expensive and ridiculous clothes a newborn could have with a heavy heart. Listening to him made the situation so much heavier. Listening to him made him realize how further he was to realizing that dream…and how impossible it would be now.

“Are you really just going to let me buy him his first custom made toy gun? Really? Because your silence seems like you are agreeing-“

“She’s blind now, hyung.”

That statement alone finally made the mafia prince to cease from speaking, the weight of Yoongi’s new reality was slowly settling in. “She cannot see me. She still doesn’t know that I’m here-“

But Jin's response was unexpected, cutting through the air with a coldness that sent a shiver down Yoongi's spine. "Bring her home, Yoongi."

Yoongi's brows furrowed in disbelief, his mind reeling at Jin's insistence. "What? Didn’t you hear what I just said? I said—"

“I heard you, Yoongi-ah,” he stated with his cold voice he seldom used. “She’s blind now,” he repeated tonelessly. “But I’m telling you to bring her home. We might be able to do something. It’s not over until I, the greatest doctor to ever exist, tell that it is.”

“Hyung,” he sighed, looking down as he processed what Jin said and his poor attempt at making light of the situation. There was a possibility that he could fix you. But did you want anything to do with him now? What if you looked at him with hatred and disgust in your eyes? What if you saw him and decidedly left him again? Was he being selfish for considering the alternative? Could he even survive after that?

And for the first time in his life, he admitted that he was beside himself for terror that you might want nothing to do with him, that you would rather forever lose your sight than see him.

But before he could dwell on his fears any longer, Jin's voice cut through the turmoil, filled with frustration and exasperation. “Then make her fall in love again with you. You did it once, Yoongi. I cannot believe after all the education I all gave you, after sending all of you to the best universities and ensuring that you all would be the top of your chosen profession, you are all still idiots! This is such a simple problem that requires simple solution. For the love all of all that’s-“

Yoongi’s turned to where you were, only to find you crossing the road behind other people. He was a good foot away from you when he heard the screeching sound of tires that seemed to have spiraled out of control and horrifyingly, in its path was you.

His angel.

He moved before he could even think, his legs powered through, pushing people out of his way just to get to you. He remembered thinking to himself at that moment that he this time, he would harshly refuse losing you. This time, he would fight harder against destiny that was so hellbent on taking you from him.

And that time he swore that the universe was on his side as he reached for your arm and firmly pulled you to his chest. The screeching tires and the shocked sounds of the city faded into the background as he felt the force of the fall. With a deep grunt, he absorbed the impact, his body tensing with the weight of both of you as you collided with the ground. Despite the pain shooting through his body, his only concern was for your safety.

His arms remained a steadfast barrier, shielding you from harm as he felt the ground beneath him. The world seemed to slow down, time stretching out in that moment of crisis. The sound of your shock was drowned out by his pounding heart and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as he held you close, shielding you from the impending danger.

As the screeching tires came to a halt, Yoongi's focus remained solely on you. He felt a surge of relief wash over him as he realized you were unharmed, safe in his arms. His heart was beating so fast brought by the sickening worry that he wouldn’t make it in time that he failed to notice the consequences of his actions.

“Are you okay, Angel? You’re not hurt…right?”

“Suga…”

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #mafia bts fic #yandere min yoongi x you

[studioghibelli]

right person, wrong time.

| a joel miller x reader

summary: you had loved him since you met him. as the years pass, he never leaves your mind, and the next time you see him- he's someone else's.

warnings: a lot of angst, professor!joel, aunt's husband!joel, age gap (unspecified), no outbreak!au,cheating, literally just angst i am not sorry y'all i'm sick and want people to suffer too ok thanks by love u bitchez (jk obvs for legal purposes)

author's note: for @janaispunk's 1.5k celebration! enjoy "kissing in the rain" with joel miller.

The chilling rain was pattering against the cold car window, the heavy hand of December tugging at the wind outside. Your taxi driver was blabbering on about something or another, but you were too focused on the here and there of what was about to come.

Of the absolute shit show that was about to go down in your older brother's home.

Family Christmas in cold, lonely, crowded New York City. It was supposed to be wonderful, wasn't it? The thought made you want to throw up.

You weren't looking forward to this year's holiday season. Not one bit.

The Facebook posts were engrained into your head. They sat there, sizzling like raw meat on a grill, burning alongside the nasty coals of resentment until they were scorched like charcoal. The longer you thought about them, the worse the storm raging around in the rooms of your mind grew.

You unlocked your phone, staring down at the screen that it had been settled on for hours.

Your aunt- beautiful eyes, dazzling smile- standing in front of the Empire State Building with a handsome, and familiar, man behind her, his arms around her waist, and a subtle grin pressed to his mouth.

207 likes.

"You two are so cute together!" An Aunt Linda typed.

"OMG. Who's the Stud Muffin?" A Tiffany Hollis asked.

Fourteen heart eyes and thirty two green heart emojis from your nearly-senile grandmother.

"AHHHHHHH. Is this the guy you were telling me about? He is HAWT!" From none other than your dear mother.

You felt the familiar bubbles of jealousy brewing within your stomach. You stared at the screen until your eyes burned with the familiarity of tears, until your stomach acid was climbing and crawling up your throat. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to scream.

But when all was said and done, all you really did was press your lips together and toss your phone into your purse, shoving it all down deep inside of you.

"Is this the correct address, miss?" The driver asked, stopping the cab outside of a brick walled house. The golden hue of light twinkled out from every window, and the sound of old school Christmas music filled your ears as you opened the door.

"Yes, thank you sir." You handed him a twenty as he helped you grab your suitcases. "Happy Holidays." You chimed as happily as you could manage, walking towards the entrance of your brother's apartment.

Your whole nervous system was aflame as you stepped into the elevator. You had no clue what awaited you, but you knew whatever it was, it was going to be awkward, and it was going to be hard.

No one knew the truth. Not your aunt, not the handsome man in the photo, not your mother. And if they did, all hell would break loose.

For that man was none other than Joel Miller. Your former teacher, mentor, and most importantly to note- your old lover. You and Joel had spent many nights together, studying, fucking, talking. He taught you so many things about yourself, and entered in to your world exactly when you needed it.

In one of the darkest and most uninspired eras of your adult life, he filled it with joy and light. He sparked your interest in philosophy, introduced you to music you had never heard before, and helped you come in to your own as a young woman navigating the world for the first time.

Joel was there for you while you struggled with your mental health concerning your college graduation, he was there to help you pick out master's degree programs, he was there to comfort you when your childhood dog was put down and you couldn't be there- case in point, Joel was always there for you.

For three years of your life, he was always by your side.

Until he left.

Five Years Prior

"-And when we look to Nietzsche, many wrongly label him as a nihilist. If you are truly daft enough to believe his works are that of a nihilist, you need to learn to read better. Which is a shame considerin' y'all got into one of the best universities in the country.”

Scattered laughter echoed throughout the wood paneled room.

It was fall semester at the small liberal art's college you attended, and you had chosen Introductions to Existentialist Philosophy because you loooved philosophy.

Not.

In all truth, you were dragged in there by your best friend who refused to take it alone, and ended up staying in the class.

Not because of the subject matter of course, but because of the professor.

Dr. Joel Miller.

A rugged academic, a silent brute, and above all- an absolute dreamboat of a man.

The moment you had laid eyes on him, everything changed. You had never felt that way about anything or anyone so quickly. In a moment's notice your entire world was turned upside down. He snuck in to your dreams, trapped inside your brain like a life-sucking tadpole. You thought of him at dinner, while you were doing homework, when you went out with friends- he was everywhere all the time when it came to your thoughts.

And if you didn't do something about it, you were going to lose your mind.

So, you put on your favorite outfit, made sure your hair looked perfect, and made your way to his office for a one-on-one talk concerning your academic performance.

"I just want to know if there's anything I can do to stay on track better." You had lied straight through your teeth while you were emailing him. "Your class is important to me, and I want to make sure I excel." Another lie.

At the end of the day it didn't matter how hard you tried to look good for him, you ended up soaked to the bone by the time you reached his door, a stray rainstorm thundering down on you on your way there.

You knocked, teeth chattering, mascara running, sniffling to yourself as you blew hot air onto your hands. You honestly weren't entirely sure why you were still going through with your plan, considering the current state you were in, but something in your guts was telling you to keep going. Something deep within you just.... knew.

"Come in!" He shouted from the other side, and you heard the clanking of a keyboard as he typed away at his laptop.

You took in a deep breath, steadying yourself against the door frame.

You can do this. You can.

And you did.

You pushed the door open with a smile, and when he looked up at you, his eyebrows slowly raised.

"You're wetter 'n a water slide, girl." Oh fuck. Your knees were already weak. "Sit down, I've got a blanket around here somewhere."

"Oh, no I couldn't possibly-"

"Sit." He ordered sharply, before sending you a softer smile. He stood behind you, draping a blanket around your shoulders, before walking back to his desk. "They've invented these new things called Umbrellas. You might be interested in one." Joel teased, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, have they? This is my first day off the compound, and Papa forbade me from keeping up to date with the news." You joked back. Something panged within your belly. What if he didn't like your humor? What if you sounded stupid?

You slowly looked up, and Joel was smiling at your joke. "Good sense of humor." He quipped, before grabbing his glasses that hung off his shirt. "Let me just pull up your grades here, then we can begin."

"Yes sir." You whispered. Joel cast a glance your way at the words, clearing his throat as he shuffled around in his seat.

"Alright, says here you've got a 97% in my class. I... well. Um, alright now. You did say you were lookin' to stay on track in my class, right?"

You felt your face grow hot. If only you were a worse student.

"Yes?" You squeaked.

"I don't know what to tell you, darlin'. Seems like you're pretty on track to me."

You closed your eyes for a moment, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What I'm about to say is going to...well, it's not going to be- some might- I- okay, so-fuck." You groaned.

"Come on now girl, spit it out."

Fine.

"Would you go on a date with me?"

When you garnered up enough courage to open your eyes and look at his reaction to your question, you were met with a grin. "You didn't have to do all that in your email, you know. Could've just stopped on by and asked."

"Oh. You're not going to kick me out? Yell at me? Tell me to get lost?" You were completely surprised, shocked beyond belief.

"Have I yet?" Joel asked softly, and you shook your head no. "Then I don't think I will." He took in a deep breath, picking up his cup of coffee to take a long drink, no doubt thinking to himself.

You sat there trying to catch your breath, unsure of where this sudden burst of confidence, of forwardness, came from.

Perhaps it was the universe.

"Look- I would say no... to anyone else. But..." He trailed off for a moment, his eyes tracing over your features. Joel swallowed something that became stuck in his throat, shaking his head. "But somethin' about you- I don't know. I don't know what it is."

You couldn't help the smile that had stretched across your face. "Okay, great." Were the only words you could manage to breathe out.

"How about we go downtown, away from wanderin' eyes? There's a fantastic bookstore there, and a great Mexican restaurant, if that interests you."

"Yes, yes it does. One hundred percent. Um... when?"

"I'm free now."

"Me too." You closed your eyes for a moment, unable to believe that all of this was coming to fruition.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing at the door of your brother's place, Christmas boxes in hand. You were coaching yourself on what to say when you saw Joel.

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name is... no, no. That wouldn't work."

"Oh! You must be new around here- no, dammit! This isn't a workplace. Fuck."

"Hey there, silver fox! Do I know you from somewhere? Like the six thousand times we've fucked? No, no. UGHH!" You screamed out right as the door was opening, and a group of people in the foyer stopped talking, all turning to look at you in unison as your mother fully opened the door.

You stood there like a deer in front of the headlights of a car, too stunned to speak. Hopefully, if the Holiday Spirits were on your side, they would have not heard any of what you just said.

"Oh!" She pulled you in to a tight hug, and soon you were flooded with lavender perfume and hugs from all sorts of relatives. "Your siblings are in the kitchen, grandparents are on their way. We're so happy to see you!"

You smiled, dropping your backs at the entrance. "Yeah, me too." You lied through a dazzling smile, taking off your scarf and hat.

"How has Austin been treating you?"

"Who?" You asked, looking up as you were kicking off your boots.

"Austin.... Texas?"

You could have slapped yourself in the forehead. "Oh-oh, yeah. Austin is great. Not cold like here!"

"It's so funny, you know. Aunt Marie's new boy toy- oops, did I say that? I'm so bad. He's definitely something though, rawr." Your mom giggled through the rim of her wineglass as you took off your layers.

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry. Like I was saying, Marie's new boyfriend is from Austin too. Maybe you know each other!"

"That's great, mom."

"Do you want to go meet him?"

"Can I take my things upstairs first?"

"Oh, don't be silly. It'll only take two minutes!" She exclaimed with a tipsy smile.

You stopped, staring at her for a moment. If you resisted, she may think something was up. If you went ahead and met this 'stranger', perhaps you could just get it over with and spend the rest of the night with an upset stomach and a glass full of whatever liquor you could tolerate.

"Fine. Fine."

You followed her, feet dragging behind with every step you took, until you reached the den. You saw your father sitting on a leather couch with a cigar and a glass of bourbon, accompanied by your aunt, your brother, a cousin, and him.

Thank the Heaven's above he wasn't looking up.

You were about to vomit all over the place. Your ears were ringing, fingers numb- oh, God. How were you going to do this?

The voice of someone or another made you come down from your thoughts, and that's when you were met with his gaze.

Just like Pavlov's dog you felt the familiar hug of warmth coursing through your veins at the sight of those honeyed eyes, knees buckling- with nerves or affection- you weren't quite sure. You grasped ahold of your father's arm as he went to hug you, holding on for dear life.

"Whoa there!" He laughed, holding you steady. "You drunk already?"

"Um..." You were doing everything you could to blink back tears. "I-"

Your dad pulled you in to a tight hug, standing by you as you held on to his arm. Joel stood up from his chair abruptly, his bourbon spilling on his gray sweater.

"Oh no, honey! Your cashmere." Your aunt spoke, before turning to you. "Hey there niece! Come give me a hug." You wobbled over to her, eyes wide and lips parted, your heart beating so hard against your chest you would be surprised if they couldn't hear it.

"H-Hi." You hugged her lightly, pulling away. For a long moment you stared at her, and a sudden urge to slam your fist across her face overtook you.

The countless thoughts of her and Joel, hugging, kissing, fucking, going to bookstores together, talking late at night- every horrible scenario you had tried to drown out for months filled your head and poured out of your ears like locomotive steam, and you were unsure of where to put all of this anger you felt.

So you gritted your teeth, slowly turning to him.

He was beautiful. He always had been. His broad shoulders pulled his sweater taut against his flesh, and a familiar golden necklace dangled from his neck, reflecting the absinthe lamp of the room.

You had given him that necklace. Your eyes filled with tears, and you quickly blinked them away. Not quick enough for Joel to miss- his face flashed with a pang of hurt, of guilt.

"I-I'm.... I'm-" You tried to introduce yourself, each time choking over your throat. It retracted like you were choking, closing in on itself each time you tried to form any sort of thought.

"Spit it out!" Your brother called with a laugh.

"We know he's attractive, but there's no need to be scared!" Marie laughed, and you saw a subtle wince prick at the corner of Joel's eyes.

You finally said your name, as quickly as you could.

Joel extended his hand, and you shook your head at him in a silent form of disbelief.

"I'm Joel." He spoke quietly, curtly, sadly. You reached out with a shaking write, and his warm, calloused palm wrapped around your own. When he went to let go, his fingers dragged down your knuckles, across the ring you wore on your middle finger that he had given you many moons ago, the ring that matched the charm on his necklace.

"Okay, I'm going.... I'm going to go and put my things away."

You pushed your way out of the room and ran up the stairs, gasping for air once you got to the hallway. You sobbed out loud, your hand covering your mouth as you fell to the carpet, rocking yourself against the dry wall. You had never been more thankful for loud, obnoxious Christmas music before.

"Thank you, Mariah Carey." You muttered, throwing your head back against the wall as you wiped off your cheeks.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You whispered, the back of your hand dragging across your nose. "Fuck."

You stood back up with a vicious sniffle, grabbing your bag and tossing them onto your bed that was a few feet away. Closing the door to your bedroom slowly, you fell face first into the mattress, screaming into it. You weren't sure what emotion was overtaking you the most. Sadness? Rage? Guilt?

There was a knock at your door.

"Go away mom!" You called out.

"Ain't your momma."

You gasped out at the sound of Joel's voice, slowly standing to your feet. It must have taken you five minutes to reach the door, your whole body moving in slow motion against the caution your brain was screaming out.

When you opened the door he quickly stepped in, leaving you no time to process what was happening. He locked the door behind the two of you, his hands falling to his hips as he stood and stared down at you.

You didn't have the courage to meet him face to face, instead staring at the golden stain that had stained across his chest.

"Oh no, your cashmere." You bitterly mocked the voice of your aunt, finally looking up at him through wet lashes. "Why are you here?"

"Because your aunt and I-"

"I meant here, Joel. In my room."

He blinked a few times, taking in a quiet breath. "I ain't too sure why."

"Wha... okay." You threw your arms up in silent resignation, turning your back to him as you began unpacking your suitcase. "Then leave."

He was quiet for a long moment, before you felt a palm on your shoulder.

"Look at me, darlin'." Joel's voice was soft. He was... pleading with you.

Tears welled into your eyes again. "I can't." Your voice cracked, nails digging into your palms. "I can't." An ugly sob left you, and soon his arms were tight around you.

"Shh, s'alright now. Shh." He rocked you in his arms, his palms dragging up and down your back. "Shh, it's okay."

"It's not." You whimpered. "It's not." You pushed yourself away from him, stumbling towards the balcony. "I need some fresh air."

You stepped out onto the porch, holding on to the rails.

It was freezing, and rain was soaking you to the bone, but you had to breathe in something other than his cologne. His cologne. His woody scent that had burned its imprint in to your nostrils, never to leave.

Joel walked beside you, taking your hand.

"I didn't know she-"

"I know."

"I would never do that to you-"

"I know, Joel."

"Please look at me." He begged, and you couldn't help but look up at him. His hands moved to your face, his dark eyes full of sadness.

"Joel?" You asked quietly, a bought of worry crashing over you at his sudden silence.

"I-" He stopped himself, and you saw the tears growing in his eyes. "Every day I think about you. Every single day."

You nodded. "I do too, Joel."

"You were.... I loved you. So much. More than myself. And I- well, it took me so long to realize how selfish I was being. You're so young, you have so many possibilities ahead of you, you know?"

"Joel, I-"

"Let me finish." He whispered, his rough thumb brushing over the height of your cheekbone. "Please, let me finish. I have to."

You nodded, a shiver snapping through your body.

"And I just couldn't stop thinkin' about what would happen if we kept goin'. I was scared. I was scared of stoppin' you from fulfillin' your dreams, scared of tyin' you down. I'm an old man, honey, and I'm only gettin' older, and I just... it was selfish of me to take you away from what's supposed to be the best years of your life. Hell, give it another decade or two and you'd be takin' care of me, wipin' my ass and spoon feedin' me." He let out a sad laugh, and you followed suit, shaking your head.

"For what it's worth, Joel, I never...I never saw it like that."

"I know. I know you didn't. You never saw the bad in me. You're so patient, so kind, so.... just, you're everythin' I ever wanted, who I had always been dreamin' about."

"Then why... if- I just. I don't understand. I would have stayed with you, even when you got old and grumpy- grumpier." You corrected yourself with a sniffle and a laugh, wiping both the tears and rain off your cheek. "Why leave it all?"

"You say that now, but thing's always end up turnin' out differently. Right person, wrong time. Just like everybody always says."

Joel pushed a strand of wet hair behind your ear, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Please..." You let out a soft whimper, your bottom lip quivering.

"Don't give me none of that now, honey." Joel dragged his thumb across your lip. "Don't waste no more tears on me."

"Can't make any promises."

Joel rested his forehead against yours, his liquor stained breath fanning hot across your face. Your arms wrapped around his waist as he held your face, his eyelashes brushing against your own.

"Let me kiss you." You whispered, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "One last time."

Joel nodded in agreement, his plush lips molding in to yours perfectly, the way they always had, the way they always would. You kissed him deeply, with a hunger you had never known before and a sadness you had never felt before, his sweater bunching up between your fingers. Joel let out a quiet grunt into your mouth, his fingertips imprinting upon your cheek as he pulled you closer.

If he could, he would have morphed your bodies together from this kiss, never to be apart.

But he couldn't.

This was goodbye.

His tongue swept across your lip and you parted your mouth, your tongues tangling together, tasting, exploring, tangling up together in a maelstrom of emotion neither of you were prepared to feel. With the cold rain pouring down, chilling you straight to the core, the dichotomy of heat and ice made your chest compress, the wind swirling around your bodies, nearly freezing you together.

You wouldn't mind being frozen against him, you wouldn't mind thawing out together beneath the spring sun, only to do it all again the next time Winter approached.

But you couldn't.

This was goodbye.

You both pulled away at the same time, and you couldn't help the cry that escaped you, the realization that you would never feel him again surging through your blood.

"None of that." He whispered, pulling you in for a tight hug. "None of that." His hand held on tightly to yours, his fingers tracing shapes across your fingers as he soaked in your face.

Your teeth chattered, and you walked towards the entrance back into your room.

"Goodbye, Joel." You whispered, your lip catching between your teeth. It was a stupid thing to say, considering you would see him at every family gathering. He wasn't actually going anywhere.

But he knew what you meant. He knew the weight your words carried.

"Goodbye, darlin'." He held on to your hand as long as he could, your fingers untying as you walked inside and out into the hall, heading for the bathroom.

Joel heard the shower running, and he walked back inside, his knuckles dragging across the bathroom door as he walked past. With a heavy sigh he went to go change, making his way back downstairs.

You spent the rest of the night trying to feel better, but an anchor had lodged itself into your chest. Just as you predicted, you drowned yourself in cranberry mojito's and tried to find solace in karaoke with your siblings, stories from your grandma, anything you could get your hands on, really. But nothing helped. Each time you thought you were feeling just a bit better, you would catch his gaze, and the world around you would come to a complete stand still.

It took months to start to feel at least a little bit better, yet the thought of Joel always lingered in the back of your mind. He would visit your dreams, sit with you and your thoughts at breakfast, dance with you to the music you would play while cooking. He haunted you like a ghost, and to be honest- you would rather a ghost be following you than the echo of his memory.

After all was said and one, you truly thought you were managing to cope well, until you got a letter in the mail from your aunt.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Joel Miller and Marie-

You didn't remember much after that.

#studioghibelli #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female y/n #joel miller angst #angst #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

[saintkaylaa]

𝜗ৎ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐚!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐗 𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡/𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐦 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hi to this really late 🎊 anon request! I’m so glad to have finally finished this because it was such a good request and it never left my mind. I was just in school still when you asked so it took me a bit longer sorry! Choso strictly calling reader “mama” as soon as he gets her pregnant is canon. I don’t make the rules I just enforce them.

𝐈 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬

“I don’t understand.”

You watched Choso in the mirror as he cocked his head to the side. His brows furrowed in obvious confusion.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror you traced your fingertips across the white and purplish red marks clawing up your stomach, leading them into the wrinkles close to your navel.

You sighed, “Stretch marks are what happens when your skin undergoes rapid weight changes.”

You explained, letting your hands fall away and slumping down at your sides as your eyes skimmed over your body with critique.

It had changed a lot since having your first child with Choso. Only really earning a few stretch marks that faded almost immediately once giving birth, and your love handles that had grown just a bit plushier. It bothered you at first but before you could even voice those self hating thoughts to Choso he had pointed them out in a positive way.

“Wow, these are beautiful.” He had whispered with awe and curiosity, his thrusts into you slowing down and tracing the stretch marks that were now mostly faded across the dip of your waist.

He hadn’t seen them before, at least not this closely. It had been the first time you two were having sex again after your first daughter was born. So now that he was this close to you the marks were clearer.

You wanted to cover them up almost immediately with the nearest blanket, even though Choso had just said they were beautiful. You just didn’t feel like it.

He noticed this in your eyes, as you looked off to the side as if ashamed of something. He lowered himself down to his elbows to kiss along your exposed neck. His hips rolling into you in a slower rhythm.

“What’s wrong mama?” He asked, his tone trying to sound more concerned than anything else.

Your eyes fluttered trying to focus on his question and not on the way his cock felt so good moving languidly inside you. It gave you that wonderful sense of familiarity of being full with the man you loved.

“I don’t—“ You sighed blissfully, struggling to answer him. Arms encircling his neck to bring him flush against you for that skin to skin contact you craved.

Choso hummed in response, his arms wedging themselves between you and the matress to tie you up in his stronge, safe arms.

“I don’t feel beautiful because of them…” You managed, and then his hips stopped.

After another moment of stillness you loosened your arms around his neck so that you could meet his eyes. Dark saturated violet eyes starring at you with a confusion that you were so used to from him, accentuated by the disapproving worried furrow of his brows.

“But you are beautiful.” He murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

You shrugged slightly, flitting your gaze away from him in embarrassment for only a moment before pulling away from his neck completely.

“But I don’t feel it.” you insisted meekly.

“I can help you feel it, mama.” He said matter of factly, like it was that easy.

Then he was moving away from you and down your body on a mission to make good on his promise.

His hands touching you with adoration in tandem with his mouth that worshiped every inch of skin it came into contact with.

His words of affirmation and worship over the body you were growing to hate were melting away and into the matress he was pushing you into with his body.

After that night your self-deprecation ceased, and that was mostly thanks to Choso and his sincere love and appreciation he had for you and your body. What it could do, what it had done, the family you two were growing and nurturing together.

But that was then, and this was now. Your body had given Choso 2 more babies since then, and the toll it took on your body was more visually taxing on you.

When you were done scrutinizing yourself in the mirror your eyes found his again— as they always did. Finding comfort in the half curse, more man, that never failed to provide you support, comfort, and most of all love. Love for you, who you were, what you could do. All of the things that made you so intricately and beautifully you.

He smiled with warmth at you before getting up and joining you at the mirror. Fully prepared and expecting him to tell you exactly all the love he had for you, touching you with gentle adoration, but to your surprise he didn’t do that.

Coming up behind you he kissed you once at the crook of your neck, and then lowered himself down on his knees in front of you.

“Choso, what are you—“ Your breathy chuckle halted by the sensation of his large gentle hands skimming over your thighs. Tracing over the uneven dips of them with his fingertips, brushing his knuckles over the fat of your love handles that had grown fuller since that night he made those self destructive thoughts go away.

You could feel his warm breath on your cunt and it made the pit of your stomach flutter.

“I’m gonna show you just how beautiful you are. He kissed the top of your cunt softly, then with half lidded eyes he looked up at you again.

“I’m gonna make you feel it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in the form of a breathless sigh. Your hand reaching forward to brush back the loose hair in his face, knowing that what he was going to do next also warranted that you held on to something. Now desperate for him to sooth your needy clit.

“Choso you…” you whisper his name like a prayer, looking down at him with wild anticipation. Equal parts excited and moved by the holy sight below you. On his knees like worship. Touching you in an almost sacred like manner.

With an unadulterated adoration burning within him, he closes the distance between his lips and your wet cunt. Kissing your folds tender as if kissing your lips while his hands rubs soothing patterns across your love handles and your ass.

His tongue then dips into your folds, the tip of his tongue finding your wet hole and licking up to trace slow, delicious circles against your sensitive clit. The sensations spread through your body like wildfire, leaving you gasping and tightening your fingers around his hair.

Choso knows what he’s doing. He knows that he devours your cunt like a devout worshipper. Expertly pleasing every inch of your sex, just the way you like it, alternating between gentle licks and firm, devouring strokes.

You bend over slightly to brace yourself on the mirror, glancing up at yourself and taking in the sight of Choso completely buried in your cunt like he belonged there, and seeing the way he fit against you like this in the mirror really convinced you more. Moaning out, you let your head fall forward, lost in the pleasure. Your hips begin to move on their own, grinding against his mouth, desperate to continue building up that mind-numbing orgasm that was starting to bloom at the center of your pelvis.

Choso’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you firmly in place as he continues to feast on your sweet essence. The sounds you’re making urging him to continue, lighting a fire in his blood that was quickly reaching down into his cock. He so desperately wanted to palm himself to help alleviate his suffering, but this was about you. So he had to just perceiver.

The pleasure coursing through your body builds higher and higher, the need for release reaching a desperate crescendo and you think your knees might give out.

"Choso," you croak, your voice trembling now that he was sucking on your clit and shaking his head in added sensation. Having raised one of you legs over his shoulder so that he had deeper access to your cunt. Probing at your dripping hole with his tongue.

"I want to cum..." You whine, both hands flying to the back of his head to hold him in place and fuck his tongue with feverish urgency. Then his fingers slid themselves into you, and scissoring into you at the same tempo as his tongue, and you couldn’t help but let a slew of profanities leave your mouth. God, it was coming. That mind-numbing orgasm was creeping up on you fast, and you knew you were going to cum hard.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in preparation when you feel Choso push up on your pussy, grab your jaw, and pull your attention down on him to watch yourself drag your cunt hard against his hot, skilled tongue. Violet eyes that held galaxies in them were looking up at you like you were the one to create them, and that was the thought that did you in. 

That Choso looked at you not only like you hung the fucking moon and stars up in the sky, but that you commanded them to take shape and form. He adored you. He worshipped you with the reverence of a devout follower, seeing you as the embodiment of grace, strength, and beauty in every moment. Devoted enough to fall to his knees and want you to cum right on his face like it was his greatest honor.

With a high pitched cry, a mind numbing orgasm consumed you like a fucking tidal wave.

Choso hummed in sweet pleasure, pulling his fingers out of your sopping cunt to grab your ass and love handle hard to hold you in place as you gushed into his mouth.

He revels in the taste of your divinity, his tongue continuing its relentless worship on your sensitive clit even as your body convulses in pleasure and you want to squeeze your thighs together for relief. He relishes the feeling of your hands gripping his head, urging him closer, deeper. He doesn’t think he belongs anywhere else but between your legs.

He continues to lap at your dripping core to prolong your pleasure, his eyes locked with yours. The sight of your face, scrunched in ecstasy, ignites an even fiercer hunger within him. His cock leaky and twitching.

When Choso knows you’ve finished completely he pulls back, his gaze locked firmly on your face as he speaks in a low, hoarse voice, "You look so beautiful when you come. I could watch you like this for eternity."

You breathe out a tired laugh when he stands up to take your face in his hands. His mouth glistening with your cum and you don’t think he could ever look as beautiful as he does now.

“When I look at you, I see a sacred beauty of creation.” He says, kissing you tenderly.

“Mother of children I didn’t know I could have.” He kisses along your jaw, one hand roaming down your chest while the other holds your face against him. Lost in this new pleasure, you only notice that he’s guided you back towards the bed when you feel the edge of it hit the back of your legs.

“Goddess of this home…” He whispers warmth against your ear just after he’s kissed you in the most sensitive part of your neck, and your breath quickens. Your hands close over his wrist as you try to meet his eyes again but it’s hard. You’re losing yourself in him.

You can’t help it. Choso’s love for you is so disorienting in the best possible way. It’s so easy to get lost in him and you half wonder if he’s obtained some new power that only afflicts you.

“Choso…” Your voice comes out much hoarser than you expected, and you wonder if he can feel your skin burning up again under his gaze.

His eyes follow his fingers as they lightly brush the stray hairs in your face away.

Choso wonders if you’ve obtained a new power that only afflicts him, and if you have he never wants to break away from it.

“Mama I don’t ever wanna hear you say such horrible things about yourself like that again.”

You feel overwhelmed by his words.

You feel like crying by thought of looking at yourself in his eyes. Oh how you wished you could see yourself in his eyes…

“You breathe the very life of this family.” He kisses the corner of your mouth as you both settle into bed together.

Everything starts to blur together. You can’t decipher what his words are from his actions because it all makes you feel the same. Beautiful, raw, desirable, worshipped, divine, supremely real, and wholeheartedly loved.

You can tell now you’re crying because of how hot the droplets feel gliding down your face as you kiss him.

“With you I am complete.” He murmurs against your lips and takes your breath away.

Your eyes finally lock on his and you gasp, feeling Choso slide his cock into you slowly, and you both moan into each other.

And in him you discover the true essence of your existence.

𝜗𝜚𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

© saintkaylaa 2023-2024 do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work with out permission. reserved rights to any original ideas. I do not own any established characters. All rights reserved.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso drabbles #choso headcanons #papa!choso #dad!choso #choso #choso kamo #choso x female reader #choso x you #choso smut #choso x y/n #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso my beloved #choso x curvy!reader #choso x chubby reader

[frostyhelltime]

Alastor Realizes He Has Feelings For You

Alastor x GN!Reader

AN: A lovely anon sent in a request for a few of the guys realizing they have feelings for the reader, and Alastor's got...so far away from me that I decided to give him his own post, and I'll link this in the ask I actually answer. I just had so much fun writing Alastor freaking the hell out once he realizes.

HERE is the link for the ask if anyone is curious to see this prompt with Lucifer or Vox.

Alastor

In order of which of the guys notices first, Alastor realizes it dead last.

Which makes sense. He had long thought himself incapable of such feelings toward someone. There had never been anyone he had felt that particular inclination towards before, so he assumes at first that what he has with you is just…a very intense friendship, almost like him and Rosie, just with some odd caveats.

Once he does realize he'll immediately go to Rosie for some advice since it's…clearly not his area of expertise.

He doesn't even notice it, someone else points it out to him.

He's in a piss poor mood as he goes about the hotel. He hasn't yet figured out it's because you've been too busy to see him for the past four days.

Until someone gets mad enough at him to talk back.

Alastor is sitting in the lobby, impatiently tapping his foot as he wallows and waits, sipping a glass of rye as Husk made a point to only come over to his side of the bar when it looked like he needed something.

Alastor was struggling, trying to figure out why his mood has been so sour these past few days. Things had been fine, delightful even! The hotel was taken care of, his broadcasts went well, why he even went for a nice stroll in Cannibal Town to visit Rosie. By all means a perfect few days.

So why was his patience for everything wearing oh so thin? He sighs a moment and makes a sound almost like a growl to himself as he tries to puzzle this out. This was so infuriatingly perplexing!

It isn't much longer until Angel Dust is so fed up with Alastor ruining the good mood of the bar as he tries to flirt with Husk that he actually addresses the Overlord.

“Look Smiles. Just because you're all sad ya lovely little lover has been too busy to even say hi the past few days, doesn't mean you've gotta take it out on us. I'm trying to hit on the barman but your pissy mood is killing it.” Angel says, throwing a hand up from the other side of the bar. 

“Operative word here being try, not succeeding at.” Husk says dryly, closer to Angel’s side.

“Yeah yeah. You secretly adore me. Don't worry. I'll keep your secret.” Angel winks at him as Alastor tries to decipher what it is Angel just said.

“...Lover?” He asks, trying to clarify, tilting his head to the side. He's so flummoxed he even stops tapping his foot. He says it like someone sounding out a foreign word for the first time.

“...Are they not your lover?” Angel raises an eyebrow, putting his drink down a moment. “I mean the way you two act…I thought you were dating and just keeping it a secret.” Angel shrugs, and only then does it click Angel is talking about you. There's no one else in the hotel that he's consistently friendly enough with that that mistake could happen.

Once he figures it out he just cackles a moment, deep and loud, with his free hand over his stomach as he fails to contain his amusement.

“Oh my dear Angel, no!” He says, chuckling a little more before continuing, shaking his head. “They're just a very dear friend.” Alastor explains, waving off the idea. “Besides why would I be upset they haven't been around? I don't see Rosie every day and I'm perfectly fine.” He says, although he doesn't really need to explain himself to them anyway.

But it doesn't seem to convince Angel who just looks at him with skepticism.

“Surely you jest! What evidence have I possibly given to suggest they are more than a dear friend?” Alastor asks, sure Angel has nothing concrete.

“Well, for starters, they can touch you whenever and however they want. You let them in your personal bubble and you fucking hate people being in your personal bubble.” Angel begins to explain, holding a finger up.

“I'm the same way with Rosie, and Mimzy, to a degree.” Alastor shoots down that theory easily.

“You've been in an increasingly shit mood with  a short fuse since they've been too busy to see you.” Angel tries again, holding up a second finger.

“Preposterous. I don't know why I'm in such a frustrated mood, but I assure you it isn't them. Perhaps I'm feeling a bit of cabin fever and need to spend more time out and about in the city…?” The last bit is mostly Alastor's own suggestion to himself. "Perhaps too much time in the hotel..?" He continues wondering aloud.

Angel just rolls his eyes and sighs, rubbing his forehead with a free hand a moment.

“You get them presents! And do things for them without ever asking for a deal!” Angel tries again, holding up a third finger, but Alastor just shakes his head.

“I won't deny I do that, but I fail to see the connection between that behavior and them supposedly being my lover.” Alastor shakes his head, finding Angel's arguments far too easy to poke holes into.

Angel thinks he's about to scream with how absolutely daft this guy was in regards to his emotions apparently.

“You let them in your radio station, even when you're broadcasting, have picnics in your freaky weird swamp thing in your room, smile so much brighter as soon as you catch sight of them! You obviously have a big fat crush on them!” Angel almost shouts, standing and throwing all four arms up in absolute and utter exasperation.

"Am I fucking crazy or what? I can't be the only one who sees this?!" Angel sighs heavily as he turns to Husk who shakes his head.

"I'm not getting involved in this." Is all Husk says, although he stays close to Angel, as if to protect him should something go wrong.

“...None of that is something you would only do with a lover and not a friend.” Is all Alastor says through his smile. Not a denial of any of those actions, he has done all of those things. But he still thinks Angel is jumping to some rather far fetched conclusions.

Husk just knows Angel is right, but knows there's no way of convincing the guy unless it hits him right in the face, and Husk knows something you feel over a crush that you don't with a friend.

Jealousy.

“I don't even know why you're bothering trying to set them up Angel. They already have a hot date this weekend anyway so what does it matter if he has a crush on them or not?” Husk says so casually, it comes across like it could only be true. He curses at himself in his head for saying he wouldn't get involved and then immediately doing so before Angel Dust could upset Alastor.

There's a loud pop of static that sounds off from Alastor's direction, and Husk thinks he's right on the edge of making him realize.

“No kiddin’? Man. That blows Smiles. Sorry.” Angel blinks, slumping a bit before sitting back down and drinking. “Huh. I wonder if that's why they asked me for outfit advice the other day? Said they really wanted to wow someone.” Angel taps his glass as he thinks, having absolutely no idea if Husk is lying, but playing along anyway.

“How’d they ask them out anyway?” Angel asks curiously, because if it's true he does want to know, and if it isn't he's sure the answer will rile Alastor up anyway.

“Some newbie sinner approached them while they were grabbing a snack from that bakery they like, and said something about having a crush on them and asked them out to some jazz show or something, I don't remember. They seemed pretty excited.” Husk says as he refills Angel's drink now. However Alastor's drink just shatters in his hand at this information and he just looks down in surprise.

He hadn't been holding it that tight, had he? He looks equally confused and irritated at the mess of glass and rye on the bar top and in his hands. But why was he upset? He was never upset whenever Rosie got a new husband. He couldn't actually be jealous could he? Just the very idea makes him want to scoff. He doesn't get jelaous. But the image of you on some date with some pathetic unworthy creature as you laughed at their jokes and leaned in closer, hand gently on their arm as you pressed your lips against thei-

He's standing up, letting out a deep breath to calm himself, clearly upset as he let his thoughts run away from him. He turns to look at the two there and sees them looking quite scared, and covering their ears. Oh. His static was exceptionally loud right now, wasn't it? He quickly fixes that and adjusts his jacket with tight hands. He doesn't even bother to think of an excuse as he melts into the shadows, appearing in the bog in his room, pacing rapidly.

“Surely…not?” He asks himself aloud as he paces amongst the trees, allowing himself to feel the full panic and upset now that he was behind closed doors. He's rubbing his chin as he thinks, trying to logically figure this out.

“Why do I care if they date someone?” He asks himself, gripping his head as if it hurts from trying to figure out this riddle. He thinks his head actually is starting to hurt, since the answer was beginning to dawn on him, and it was terrifyingly uncharted territory. “No, no. Impossible. I'm confused. Perhaps I'm ill?” He suggests, taking his hands down, bringing one hand up to feel his forehead.

“....That excuse sounds absolutely pathetic.” He grits out, fist swinging and demolishing a tree in his way. But it doesn't make him feel any better. Doesn't make him feel any more in control. The more he thinks about it the more he realizes that on the surface, his interactions with you and Rosie are a little different.

When he gets Rosie presents it's just a simple “Here you are dear! I thought of you!” And then they share a laugh as she thanks him. But when he gives you a present, he waits eagerly, eyes scrutinizing every aspect of your being as you open it. His posture is stiff but practiced as he awaits your reaction, only relaxing when he sees the ecstatic smile on your face as you begin to thank him.

He doesn't mind Rosie touching him, and in fact on some days actually quite enjoys it. But with you he wants it, moves instinctively towards your touch instead of away.

Fuck. That stupid spider was right, he realized with a swell of panic and fear at this new unknown variable.

He…loves you? It still didn't sound right, but the more he thought about it the more he realizes it could only unfortunately be true. When had you wrapped him around your little finger so tightly? And how hadn't he realized?!

He's even more upset now at how far gone he was on you without realizing. The radio demon has a weakness. Even just thinking the phrase makes the sensation of bile rise in his throat and he has to sit down a moment to collect himself again.

His entire body is stiff and agitated as he tries to come to terms with this. Until he hears a knock on his door.

“Alastor? Are you in there? It's me. Husk said you seemed like you were in a sour mood. So I thought I would come check on you. Can I come in?” Your voice rings through the door crystal clear and he sucks in a breath and pays attention to his reactions now.

His stiff muscles began to relax and soften, the frustration that was so unbearable he had begun tearing apart trees seemed so…distant now. Surely an over exaggeration to lose his cool like that. He sighs and looks down. 

Angel had been right.

But…now that he knows…all he needs to do now is get you wrapped just as tightly around his finger as he was around yours. There is no danger of feeling jealousy or rejection or heartbreak or of him possibly being controlled by you or anything of the sort if he ensures you fall for him as splendidly as he has apparently fallen for you.

With that in mind he stands now, ready to face you with this new knowledge. He's dusting himself off and then opening his door, smiling at you in the typically charming way he knows had a tendency to make people swoon when he was alive, and even now in death. Just because he hadn't had an interest in dating didn't mean he didn't know how to charm someone. 

“How kind to come check on me.” He drawls almost sweetly as he snatches your hand as gently as possible before bringing it to his lips, eyes half-lidded as he peers at you, studying your expression. He feels confident from the sound of the slight intake of your breath and the small flush of red dusting your cheeks that he very well still has a chance to edge out any competition for your affections.

“Well now my dear I'm in a much less sour mood now that I have such exquisite company. If you're not too tired I would love to know what's captured your time so much these past few days. Come on in.” His smile is charming, a predator seeming to eye his unaware prey as he opens the door further to let you in, your eager smile mollifying him for the moment.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor